In the Fast Lane
by Sophia Hawkins
Summary: Seventh in the "Brutus" series. Dull moments seem to be few and far between for the A-Team and the people involved with them.
1. Chapter 1

In the Fast Lane

BOOM! The deafening roar of an explosion, followed by the crackle of flames that surrounded the building.

Choking on a gasped breath, Hannibal shot up in bed.

* * *

KABOOM! A much shorter, fiercer explosion, also followed by the sound of crackling flames, also choking smoke and flying debris.

A scream stuck in his throat, Face also found himself already sitting up on his bed as he huffed and puffed and tried to catch his breath.

* * *

BANG! The sound of gunfire, followed by the beeps of hospital machinery, and a weak raspy gasping breath as the anesthesia wore off.

B.A.'s eyes snapped open and he pushed himself up into a sitting position and realized he was in bed and that it was still night.

* * *

Silence – a deafening silence and an icy coldness.

Murdock felt his mouth open in a scream that didn't come out, he opened his eyes and started gasping for air as reality sank in and he recognized his darkened surroundings as being his bedroom.

* * *

2 o' clock in the morning, Hannibal grumbled to himself as he hit his head back against the pillows and tried to get comfortable. Damn nightmares…no, not a nightmare, he remembered, a memory. He turned on his side and about rammed his whole fist into his mouth as he sighed, if he lived to be 150 he'd never forget seeing that old diner on fire, never forget the paralyzing sensation in his spine when he realized that Murdock and Jean were still in the building, and when they never saw either come out before the whole place was surrounded by flames.

Hannibal yanked up the covers and was considering burrowing under them when he heard somebody tapping at his door. It opened up and Face stepped in, dressed in his pajamas and unusually wide eyed for this time of night. He said in a rough whisper, "Hannibal, you awake?"

"Yeah, what is it?" he asked.

"I can't sleep," Face said.

"Join the club," Hannibal said, he pulled down the covers from the other side of the bed and tiredly called to the Lieutenant, "Come on, get in…"

Face made a beeline over to the bed and jumped in like something was waiting to pull him under the bed if his feet touched the floor too long.

"So…" Hannibal tiredly said, "What's your problem? Have a nightmare?"

"Yeah," Face nodded.

Hannibal nodded in agreement, "What was yours about?"

"Well…it wasn't really a nightmare," Face said, "It was a flashback."

"Oh, to what?" Hannibal asked as he tried turning over on his other side.

Face turned to him and asked, "Remember when Decker's car blew up and Jean got caught in the explosion?"

Hannibal groaned at the memory, "Yeah…I remember."

He tried thinking back, and he tried to figure out, just _how_ had they gone from looking for a clients' daughter and the fine mess that followed there, to the situation they were in now? He wasn't sure, he was just thankful that it didn't happen more often, he knew that in cases where women were involved it was easy for Face to fall head over heels for a pretty face, and even Murdock had been knocked for the same loop on occasion, but luckily every other time when the job was done, those ladies went back to their own homes, and the four of them returned to theirs, he wasn't sure that they could survive if they ever ran into another person like Jean Rhodes. Ever since the day they met her that woman had been more trouble than she was almost worth, _but_ given that Murdock _was_ married to her, that automatically made her _worth_ a lot more than any of them would've originally thought.

"What was it, 10 seconds before the car blew she was screaming at us to get out of there?" Face asked.

"And you were the only one with the brains to actually do it," Hannibal said, "She had to shove Decker or he could've been a crispy critter alongside her."

Face sighed as he looked up at the ceiling, "And if she hadn't gotten there when she did, we would've both been dead."

And if Murdock hadn't busted that window in the diner and gotten them both out of there, _they_ would've both been dead 2 years ago, Hannibal remembered.

Hannibal had just opened his mouth to respond when he noticed something. There was a light blinking on the telephone on his nightstand, it meant an outgoing call had gone through and somebody was on the line. The two men looked at each other and Hannibal carefully lifted the receiver up and pressed the speaker button so they could hear.

"Hey Murdock, they paged me on the set, what's going on?" Jean asked.

"Oh…nothing," he replied, "Just wanted to see how you're doing."

"Exhausted," she answered, "90% of this movie takes place at night, so what do we do? We film all night and then sleep all day…I've been doing this for two weeks and I'm just about burnt out on it."

"Oh, sorry to hear that," Murdock told her.

"So," Jean said, "Are you going to be coming home soon?"

There was a brief pause as Murdock hesitated before answering, "Yeah, I think in a couple more days we'll be done here."

"Good," Jean said, "I'm looking forward to seeing you again."

"I'm looking forward to seeing you again too," Murdock responded, "At least hearing you was a close second."

"What's that?" Jean asked.

"Oh, nothing," Murdock answered, "Well, I'll let you go now, I just wanted to see how you were doing."

"Alright," Jean said, "Goodnight."

"Goodbye."

Hannibal replaced the receiver after the mutual clicks. He and Face looked at each other and Face said, "He's going to be up all night now."

"Maybe," Hannibal threw back the covers and got up, "I'll go talk to him."

Face yawned and turned over on his side, "Good luck."

Hannibal padded down the hall, counting the doors to make sure he reached the right one. Two months and he was still getting adjusted to life in his new home. He remembered when he first moved in and joined the others, Murdock offered to paint a symbol on his door so Hannibal could find it, like in the Arabian Nights; Hannibal had told him it was a nice offer, but he doubted it would be necessary.

"Oh phooey," Murdock said, "And I had such a great one in mind."

Hannibal came to the door at the end of the hall and listened in, it was quiet, too quiet, Murdock was awake, otherwise he'd be able to hear the man breathing as he slept.

"Murdock?" he whispered. There was no response so he turned the knob and went in. The room was just as dark as the rest of the house right now but he made his way over to the bed and asked him, "You alright, Captain?"

Murdock didn't seem to be bothered by the fact that Hannibal knew something was wrong. He swallowed loudly and replied, "Fine, Colonel, just a nightmare."

"Yeah, well…" Hannibal went around to the other side of the bed, "There seems to be a lot of that happening tonight, do you mind?"

Murdock turned and saw Hannibal crawl under the covers on the other side of the bed and he shook his head, "Na, go ahead, Colonel."

"So," Hannibal said with a huff, "Do you want to tell me what _your_ nightmare was about?"

It was obvious that Murdock was reluctant to explain, something that rarely happened, so Hannibal knew it was bad.

"What's wrong, Murdock?" he asked.

Murdock tried to answer a couple of times but he stopped as soon as he started, he tried again and said simply, "The freezer, Hannibal…they locked her in the freezer…I remembered…"

Hmmm, Hannibal wondered if there was a boogeyman convention somewhere, seemed all original nightmares had gone on vacation and just left the nightly work to some syndicate reruns of pure memory. He reached over and gripped his hand on the Captain's wrist to get his attention and he told him, "It's alright, Murdock, it's over."

"I know it is," he replied, "But I still can't forget it…the whole thing makes me feel awful."

"Murdock, that was a long time ago."

"I know, but I'm not talking about that," Murdock told him.

Hannibal was officially lost, "What're you talking about, Murdock?"

Murdock sighed and ran a hand over his face and said, "I knew once we got her out of there, that things were going to be different…you don't tangle with the VC without coming away with _some_ kind of damage."

"Something we're all familiar with," Hannibal agreed.

"And I tried to prepare myself for whatever happened as a result of it," Murdock told him, "I told myself that I'd be ready when the post-trauma hit, when the nightmares started…"

"And when they did?" Hannibal asked.

"Well that's just it, Hannibal," Murdock said, "I don't know if they have…_I_ keep having nightmares about what happened but I don't know if Jean does or not, if she does, she never says anything about them, and if that's the case, how am I supposed to know so I can help her?"

Well it _was_ a good question but it seemed to Hannibal if Jean wasn't suffering from flashbacks or nightmares, then it must not be affecting her too much currently, it wasn't something that people could hide well against those who had been there and _knew_.

Something else occurred to Hannibal and he tried reading between the lines, because it seemed that there was something Murdock wasn't telling him. He thought back to the fact that Murdock hadn't even been at Jean's house to see her in almost a month.

"You want to go to the house tomorrow and see her, is that it?" Hannibal asked.

"Well I…I'd rather not," Murdock told him, "That is…not until she's done working on this new movie, she doesn't even get home until 5 in the morning and then she sleeps all day, her new schedule's confusing enough without me being there."

"Hmm, any idea how long that's going to take?" Hannibal asked.

"I think a few more days," Murdock answered.

They had just returned a few days ago from a particularly trying mission over in Turkey, Hannibal would've thought as soon as they got back to Los Angeles Murdock would make a beeline to Jean, but he'd been keeping his distance from her since they touched down. He didn't get it.

"We'll wait and see what happens," he told the Captain.

Murdock didn't say anything but he nodded in agreement. Though for the moment they seemed to have gotten that cleared up, Hannibal doubted if he left this bed right now that he was going to get any sleep tonight, so he stayed with the pilot and within a short amount of time they both fell asleep.

* * *

A couple days later, Hannibal left the house early in the morning when the others were still asleep and drove out to Jean's house. The sun was just starting to come up, and her car was parked up in the driveway. The odds were that she was asleep but all the same he decided to check it out. He went up to the front door and saw that it was already unlocked and the main door was open a few inches. He opened the screen door and poked his head in, "Jean? You here?"

No answer. He stepped in and looked up the stairs, "Jean?"

From behind him he heard her voice, annoyed as usual, "Don't you ever bother knocking?"

He turned around and told her, "Well the door was," and stopped when he got an eyeful of Jean standing in the dining room dressed only in her bra and underwear, and he immediately turned back the other way with an embarrassed smirk on his face, "Whoa! Sorry, kid, I thought you were still in bed."

"I _was_," she replied, "Fire broke out last night a few blocks from where we were filming so everybody was forced to shut down production and we went home early, I actually managed to get a few more hours of sleep than usual."

"Ah, and…this?" Hannibal inquired.

"On rare occasions when Murdock's not here and I happen to have the place to myself, I like walking around the house in my underwear, don't you ever do that?" she asked sharply.

Hannibal couldn't force back the smirk and chuckle that escaped him as he replied without turning back to see her, "Yeah but it's a bit different when _I_ do it."

"Anyway, what brings you over here so early in the day?" she asked.

"Oh I just thought I'd see how you were doing," he remarked, "It's been a while."

Jean looked at him as she got dressed and she told his back, "Three weeks."

"Yeah, I know," Hannibal replied.

"Almost four," Jean added.

"I know," he said, "I suppose you're wondering when Murdock's going to be coming back here."

"Well the thought _did_ cross my mind a few times," she told him, "Alright, you can look now."

He turned around and saw her dressed for the day in her typical attire: a pair of blue jeans that looked like they came from one of _their_ closets and a T-shirt about one size too large.

"So how've you been?" he asked.

"I've done fine for myself," she answered.

Hannibal couldn't help commenting, "You look like you lost some weight."

Jean scowled, "Yeah, I guess so."

At any other time Hannibal would have a smart remark about how she was the only woman in the world who could be depressed by that comment, but he could tell that something seemed to really be bothering her.

"What's the matter, kid?" he asked.

"It's nothing, Hannibal," she replied, "I'm just so tired of this movie we're doing, I hate the schedule, the more time passes the more I hate everything about it, I'm just anxious for it to all be over."

"How much longer you think it'll be?" he asked.

"I'm hoping to be finished with my scenes in a couple of days, past that I don't care," she told him.

"That's the spirit, you're finally starting to _sound_ like an actor," he replied teasingly. He noticed the way she stood and the way she was breathing and he asked her, "You hurt yourself working?"

"I spent a few days recovering," she told him, "This director's a nut job…he's a sadist, his action sequence regiments make your obstacle course look like a jungle gym at the playground."

"That bad huh?" Hannibal asked nonchalantly as he took out a new cigar and lit it.

"Marine recruits have it better," Jean said as she went over to the couch and collapsed on it, "He's so anal-retentive, everything has to be exact, has to have everything look _just_ right, get something, some minor, miniscule thing wrong, do it again, do it 10 more times…I'm about ready to kill him."

"Need some help?" Hannibal asked.

Jean inhaled and exhaled heavily and told him, "I about got my shoulder dislocated, I got a dozen cuts all over my body from crawling under barbed wire, I got _thrown_ off of a speeding jeep that _wasn't_ in the script, I'm not sure but I think this guy's trying to kill me, Hannibal."

He gestured to her shirt and asked her, "Mind if I take a look?"

"It wouldn't stop you even if I did," she tiredly groaned, "Go ahead."

Hannibal went over to the couch and as she lifted her arms high above her head, he grabbed the bottom of her shirt and slowly lifted it to look at her ribs. He could see the remains of a few marks that he had enough experience to identify as barbed wire pricks, looked like the ones she used to have on her arm. He also saw that the skin over some of her ribs was a lingering yellowish blue.

"You been to a doctor?" he asked.

"Didn't seem to be much point," she told him, "I'm still alive so the damage wasn't _that_ bad, and I doubt anything's broken…just gotta get the last couple of days' work done and then I'm finished."

Hannibal pulled her shirt back down and explained, "Murdock wanted to wait until you were done with the shoot to come back."

"Good idea, it'll give me a couple more days to fade before he sees me again," she said with a small exaggerated smirk.

Hannibal could tell Jean was tired and probably wouldn't be awake for much longer. "You need anything?" he asked.

"Just need to get some sleep," she said as she arched her back against the cushions and turned her head to the side, "Then I'll be fine."

"Alright," Hannibal grabbed the sheet off the back of the couch and draped it over her, "We'll be seeing you in a couple days then."

Jean looked like she was almost asleep when she suddenly picked her head up and said, "Oh Hannibal, I have one question for you."

"What's that?" he asked.

"I was just curious, has Murdock ever had any operations that you know about?"

Hannibal almost answered and then stopped, based on the way she asked it he could tell she didn't mean anything like removing a bullet or a fight related injury, "Why do you ask?"

"While I've been sitting around here recuperating I've been reading a new book I got from the library, you ever hear of The Plague Dogs?"

"Vaguely," Hannibal answered.

Jean's eyes were just about closed as she told him, "There's a dog in there that's had his brain operated on, so half the time he talks it doesn't make any sense whatsoever, just a bunch of gibberish…but it sounds like how Murdock talks sometimes I've noticed."

Hannibal wasn't sure right offhand what to make of that, but he shook his head and told her, "No, he didn't."

"Good," Jean replied with a small nod before she totally conked out.

* * *

After leaving Jean's house, Hannibal decided to drop in on the film studio since everybody had gone home for the morning, and take a little look at the film that was already made for the movie. He couldn't even tell exactly _what_ the plot of this movie was, did they even bother with those anymore? All he knew from what Jean told him was that it was a war-torn soldier's drug induced hallucination of the war as taking place in the center of civilization America, sounded like it was a Vietnam movie, but looking at the footage, how the soldiers were dressed and what types of jeeps and weapons they were using, it looked like it could've been Korea or even World War II, there wasn't anything time specific about any of it.

Jean was a nameless, faceless stunt extra in the background for the battle sequences. You had to know her to notice her, and Hannibal noticed her. He also noticed that Jean in no way exaggerated the work they were doing for this film. The fight scenes were all staged, of course they were, but get enough people together going at each other and accidents are going to happen, in this as of yet uncut, unedited film, he could see several of them knocking into each other and falling down, big soldiers falling on top of little soldiers, several slamming into each other unexpectedly, body checks left and right that made it look like an ice hockey game.

Going forward in the film he came across the jeep incident Jean had mentioned. She had been riding in the back of the jeep and half standing in it to fire a machine gun at an unseen target, and out of nowhere the jeep sped up on a rocky path, tilted to one side and Jean was thrown from the jeep and rolled down the small hill they were driving down, reaching a full stop at the bottom. A few seconds passed and she slowly got up and walked off, no assistance received or even offered. This director seemed to be a real piece of work.

A couple more days of work, she'd said…Hannibal considered it and decided she'd probably survive that, all the same he thought he'd pay a visit to the set when they started filming tonight. No rest for the wicked, or rather very _little_, that certainly seemed to be the case in their lives right now. And speaking of which…he smirked as he remembered that he had a little business to tend to at the studio as well…for once he was stepping out of the rubber monster suit and was finally going to have an actual speaking part. This, he decided, ought to be a very _nice_ change of pace…what could _possibly_ go wrong?


	2. Chapter 2

Murdock sat with his head in his hands and his eyes down looking at his shoes as her nervously rocked back and forth, anxiously avoiding watching the film playing in the projector.

"Murdock, it's not over yet," Hannibal told him.

Murdock shook his head and moved his hands up to his forehead to block his view, "Turn it off, Colonel, please."

Hannibal nodded slowly and stopped the projector. "I just wanted you to get a rough idea of what's been going on lately, Jean's been plenty busy doing what she does best and I think it's going to show when you go see her later."

Murdock slowly picked his head up and nodded, "I understand…I'll be honest with you, Hannibal, I _don't_ like what she does in instances like this. It may be a good job that she can do but it's dangerous and she keeps getting hurt doing it…" he shrugged helplessly and added, "But I can't say anything, look at the work _I_ do, but you know she'd never say anything about it to me, because she understands that it has to be done."

"I know," Hannibal told him, "But I think you'll both be catching a break, I talked to Jean the other day and she told me that she's going to try out for a more _boring_ role that'll put her up front and give her more dialogue and less action."

"Oh I hope she gets it," Murdock said, "My mind would be so relieved."

Hannibal grinned and told him, "I think she'll get it, and it'll be just as well, _I'm_ going to have a spot in it as well."

Murdock's eyebrows climbed halfway up his forehead, "You, Hannibal? What part did you get?"

"Get this," Hannibal told him, "It's something that doesn't require me being a rubber monster, and I'll actually have a speaking part."

"Congratulations, Colonel!" Murdock beamed, "But how're you going to swing that?"

"I'll explain it to you later," Hannibal said as he got the film back in its case and put back on the shelf, "Come on, let's get out of here. You've got a date to keep."

* * *

Hannibal pulled the car up to the curb and Murdock got out and took his bag with him. He closed the door and waved as Hannibal drove up the street and disappeared around the corner. Then he turned around and headed up the sidewalk to Jean's house. It was the middle of the afternoon and as usual the block was empty. It was also warm today and Murdock noticed that several of the windows were open in the house. He put down his bag, cupped his hands around his mouth and let out his own version of a war cry, and waited to see what would happen.

A few seconds later, the door opened and Jean came running out with a big grin on her face.

"Murdock!"

"Hu-," was all Murdock got out before she collided into him and wrapped her arms around him, he laughed and asked her, "Did you miss me?"

"Very much," she answered.

Murdock tried moving back without breaking the embrace when he felt her ribs poking against his stomach. But that did him little good because in the next instant, Jean jumped on him to kiss him, then he felt her shoes pressing into his legs. He didn't care though, he just chuckled under his breath and kissed her in return.

Eventually Jean's feet touched ground again but as soon as she pulled away, Murdock grabbed her and picked her up in his arms, Jean let out a surprised yelp and asked him, "Murdock, what're you doing?"

Murdock managed to maintain his hold on her and pick up his bag in his hand and he told her, "Well I reckon we got some lost time to makeup for."

Jean laughed in surprise and clung tightly to his shoulders as he marched up to the front porch and carried her inside, kicking the door shut behind him.

Hannibal couldn't contain the grin that was taking over a large portion of his face as he sat in the car and watched from up at the corner where he'd done a U-turn and came back around to watch from afar. Damn but those two certainly were cute together. And now that they'd gone inside, and presumably upstairs, he stepped on the gas and turned back onto the main road and went back the way he'd come. He knew just as well as they did how long it had been since they'd last seen each other, and he decided they were going to be allowed some time alone together, they'd certainly earned it.

* * *

As soon as Murdock had gotten the two of them indoors, he forewent any other matters of business and carried Jean up the stairs making a direct beeline for the bedroom, where they spent the next several hours together in each other's company.

It was now going on 5 o' clock and Murdock lay awake on his side of the bed feeling himself glowing with self contentment. Over on the other side of the bed Jean lay on her back with her eyes closed; she had either fallen asleep or was just lightly resting, but Murdock noticed the small trace of a smile on her face as well. Murdock looked past her, back to the direct path they'd taken since they got up here. His jacket was draped carelessly over a chair, his cap was resting on the trunk behind the headboard, his shoes and hers were kicked off by the bed, his socks carelessly tossed across the room, Jean was currently going through a phase where she didn't bother wearing any.

Despite what he knew, that Jean's work on the war movie was complete and now her schedule could get turned back around to normal, sleep at night, up during the day, as soon as they'd reached her bedroom they'd gone straight to bed, well sort of. They were still on top of the covers and still in their clothes, but it was the first time they'd slept together in almost a month, and it was the best Murdock could remember sleeping in a long time.

Anymore, all their homecomings seemed to end up like this. Of course there was a reason for it. After the incident that followed Hannibal's last training regiment and obstacle course, Murdock decided the best thing to do whenever the two of them got together again, was to make sure that Jean didn't overexert herself, he figured that way it would cut down on the risk of a repeat attack. He always explained that there was always the next day to go out and do something, but for right now he preferred this. He inched over closer to Jean and smiled to himself. _This_ was nice too, in fact…he reached one hand over and loosely grabbed a handful of the curls that were finally growing back on the top of her head, then ran his fingers closer down to her scalp…the more he thought about it, the more he decided he preferred _this_.

It wasn't something easy to explain, but it was easy for him to figure out. He thoroughly enjoyed all the times they went out and did things, either just the two of them or with the others, but this was nicer because _here_, lying in bed alongside each other like _this_, he knew for a brief while that they were safe, they didn't have to worry about anyone shooting at them, they didn't have to put up with goons twice their size trying to kill them, or things suddenly exploding, or the military catching them, none of that applied here, in instances like this, those problems ceased to exist. He knew that there was nothing long-term to that solution, but he always enjoyed it while it lasted.

Jean made some small sound in her throat and turned over onto her stomach and buried her face in the pillows. For a very brief time, nothing in the outside world could affect them, and this was the closest thing to heaven that here was on earth. And _then_ the phone rang.

Jean's eyes about popped out of her head as she jerked awake in response to the noise, but otherwise she hardly moved and told Murdock, "The phone's ringing."

"I know," he replied.

Jean closed her eyes again and murmured into the pillow, "I'm not expecting anybody."

"Neither am I," Murdock told her.

They let it ring a couple more times before Jean reached over the headboard and grabbed the receiver off the phone sitting on the trunk and grumbled into it, "Hello?"

"Hey kid, how's it going?" Hannibal's voice replied from the other end, _way_ too cheerful for the mood she was in.

Jean groaned and pushed herself up onto her knees with her free hand and she said angrily into the phone, "Hannibal, don't you have anything better to do than to interrupt an orgy?"

Murdock was able to bite back most of the laugh that tried to escape him when she said that, but he wore a grin that just threatened to let it through at full force.

Hannibal replied, "Believe me I'd rather do anything than call in the middle of _whatever_ you two are doing…" she could just about hear his grin, "But I need to talk to my Captain for a minute."

"Here," Jean passed the receiver to Murdock and then sank back against the mattress.

"Hello?" Murdock said into the mouthpiece, and from there it seemed to become a one sided conversation until Hannibal finally shut up and Murdock said, "Hold on, I'll see," he put his hand over the mouthpiece and said to Jean, "Hannibal wants to know if we can come over."

"Hmph, not me," Jean said as she turned her head to the side, "I'm part of this bed and I can't move."

Before Murdock could break the news to Hannibal, he could hear the Colonel talking again, and after he got the message, he told Jean, "He says they can come over here."

"I'm not cooking," she told him as she rolled her whole body onto its opposite side.

"Hannibal says that's no problem," Murdock told her.

"And we're not eating _his_ cooking either," Jean replied, "The Geneva Convention was invented to put an end to torture like that."

Murdock put his ear to the receiver and listened and he told Jean, "No, he says they can just pick something up and bring it over."

"That's fine," she said, "As long as he doesn't make it, that'll be fine…what's he want anyway?"

* * *

"The way I see it, this ought to be an easy job," Hannibal told the others as they sat around the dining room table listening to his plan.

Jean came out to collect the plates from dinner and she told him as she put her fist directly under his nose, "I'm warning you, Hannibal, you say this is going to be a piece of cake and you're going to get fitted for dentures sooner than you thought."

Hannibal raised a notebook pad up in front of his mouth though his eyes slanted to suggest he was smirking at her. "I didn't say that."

Everybody let out a collective grumble of relief. Jean went around the table stacking up the dishes, as she passed by Face, he picked up an unfamiliar scent and sniffed again to try and identify it. Jean cleared her throat and Face realized that he'd leaned his chair to the left over towards where she was standing. He moved his chair back to its normal place and asked her, "Are you wearing something?"

"I should sure as hell _hope_ so," she told him.

Face shook his head, "No, I mean are you wearing perfume?"

"Certainly _not_," Jean replied, "You know better than that."

Maybe so, but it still didn't answer his question of what he was smelling, he'd swear he could almost name it, but the answer seemed to be stuck on the tip of his brain.

"So let me see if I got this straight, Hannibal," Jean said as she sat down beside Murdock and looked across the table to the Colonel, "You're going to drive out to the middle of nowhere, to some unknown place that's practically in the middle of the desert, where there're no people, no houses, no way to call help or get any if need be, to find some people running a juvenile detention center to see if they've killed some of the teenagers serving sentences there?"

"Our client is not in the most stable condition right now," Hannibal said, "But that doesn't make him a liar either, and this is too outrageous to be a trap on Decker's part."

"Who is this guy?" Jean asked.

"A 17-year-old who escaped the center, managed to cut the power one night and climbed over the electric fence and didn't stop running till he got back to civilization."

"Doesn't sound like you're going to get paid for this one," Jean said.

"If what he says is true, that's irrelevant," Hannibal told her, "This kid was about dead when he found us, it looks like they're not too good to remember to feed the prisoners, I'd say he probably lost 20 pounds since he went into that place and he says if it hadn't rained the night of the break, he would've died from dehydration."

"What kind of a place is this anyway?" Jean asked.

"It's supposed to be some kind of work camp, you know, they figure hard labor will drain the trouble out of the kids."

"Like a chain gang," Face noted.

"It sounds like a railroad job from start to finish, apparently he and a bunch of his friends got sentenced to 3 months up at the place for vandalizing a fire hydrant."

"What?!" Jean jumped up in her seat.

"He claims that this was back when the last heat wave hit, they turned it on for a few minutes to cool off, but by the time the police got through with them, nobody could tell exactly _what_ all conspired that afternoon," Hannibal explained.

"3 months doing manual labor in the heat?" Jean asked, "For all that trouble you'd think they'd have at least decapitated a few parking meters."

"It sounds like the judge gets a cut from sending these kids to that place, probably over any minor offense…and from there they are completely cut off from the outside world," Hannibal explained, "No phones, all outgoing and incoming mail is apprehended, the entire area is gated off with electric fences, and even once you get past them it's about 10 miles of hard dirt and gravel, only one road leading in and out."

"Doesn't sound like the people running the place are having too much fun then either," Jean commented.

"Well that has a few extra perks," Hannibal told her, "The guards' quarters are the only buildings in the place with air conditioning, and it's a safe bet what they're having when everyone else is getting powdered eggs and instant potatoes to eat, there's only water to drink and only a limited amount per inmate per day. They work from 7 in the morning until 8 at night, lights go out at 10, get up at 5."

"Work at what?" Murdock asked.

"They were told when they arrived that they were going to dig irrigation ditches," Hannibal told them, "They've got teenaged boys _and_ girls up there, trying to dig rock hard ground with shovels and pickaxes and whatever else is on hand…the boys and girls are kept in separate parts of the camp, they don't work with each other, they don't see each other…one of the girls sneaked over to the boys' area one day and the guards found out. A fight broke out, and she about took the guard's head off with one of those triangle headed gardening hoes…they locked her in a shed for that. From what our client tells us, _anybody_ who gets out of line is locked in a small wooden shed with metal doors where there are no windows, there's no ventilation and they're left in there until sundown with no water or food, and based on the size of it, the only thing there is to do is crouch down and wait until they let you out. Apparently _most_ kids who go there get locked up at least once, but some have been left in there until they died from the heat, and their bodies were tossed in the ditches and covered up."

"They're not digging irrigation ditches, they're making those kids dig their own graves," Jean realized.

"Sounds like," Hannibal replied.

"But why would they do that?" Face asked.

Jean thought to ask Hannibal, "How many kids they got working there?"

"The place is built to house about 100, but right now it sounds like there could be 30."

"Hmm," Murdock brainstormed on the matter, "If they're digging because they're looking for something, then they figure they can find it before the sentences are up, and if that's the case, they can kill the kids, bury them here, take whatever's there, and leave before anybody comes looking for them, and by which time they could be out of the country living under whole new identities."

"That's my guess, Captain," Hannibal said, "_And_ the more prisoners they have, the more digging can be accomplished each day so they're probably on the lookout for any other kids they can get sent up to the place."

"Which would have to mean they've got a spy in the city limits watching all potential offenders," Jean added.

"And somebody has to come and go to get the food and supplies," Face added.

"They gotta bring their own buses in to the juvenile courts to load the up and take them out there," B.A. added, "Meaning they gotta bring them in town too to gas them up and check everything."

"What is this place?" Jean asked.

"It's called the Winchester Camp for Youthful Offenders," Face answered.

"Winchester?" Jean repeated, "You mean like that French _dip_ surgeon off of M*A*S*H?"

"Who knows?"

"Alright, so here comes the $10,000 question," Jean said, "Exactly _how_ do you plan to get into that place? Ain't _any_ of you that can pass for 'youthful offenders' and I don't buy that they need any newcomer guards out there."

"That's the part he hasn't figured out yet," Face told her.

"I will," Hannibal responded, "I just need to think."

"Well think faster," B.A. said.

* * *

It hadn't been planned that they would stay the night but by the time Hannibal got through brainstorming it was already late, and since everybody was there who he would need tomorrow it only made sense to spend the night, especially given they still had their old rooms to use. But first Hannibal had decided to get a shower before turning in for the night. Hot showers were something you never got tired of after being in other countries where there was hardly even any running water. He was halfway through when he inhaled and picked up a strange smell. It must've been the same thing Face had smelled after dinner, and it _did_ seem familiar, but he couldn't put a name to it. He looked around to see if there was anything new being used in this shower, everything looked the same, all the shampoo, shaving cream, bath gels, nothing that promised a swift kick to the olfactory system. Then Hannibal looked down at the bar of soap in his hand, it was a mixture of peach and white colored, the name etched into the top was half gone but he was still able to read it, ah, Caress soap. That explained it, but then it didn't explain anything because Jean never used this stuff. He got another nose full and put it back in the soap dish, yeck.

There was a knock at the bathroom door, Hannibal called out, "Yeah?"

The door opened and he heard Jean's voice, "Don't mind me, Hannibal, just putting the washrags away."

Hannibal pulled the shower curtain back enough to stick the upper part of his body out and he asked her, "Hey Jean, I got a question for you," he held the lathered bar of soap in one hand and asked her, "When'd you start using this stuff?"

"Why? It giving you a rash?" she asked as she closed the cupboard door.

"No, but since when you do use stuff like this?"

Jean looked at the soap as if she didn't know what he was talking about, then she answered plainly, "Since Murdock got it the last time before he left."

"What?" Hannibal asked.

She shrugged and told him, "Don't ask me…before you guys went running off to Turkey, Murdock came home one night with a big box full of stuff to keep on hand for while he was gone, and it was jam packed full of stuff like that soap and some big bottles of expensive dry skin lotion."

"Now why would he do that?" Hannibal asked her, already having a good idea that he knew the answer, but he wanted to hear it from her.

"Because he knows when you guys are gone and he's not here that I don't always take the best care of myself, especially when work's slow and money's tight, and he knows all that too," Jean explained, "Now he knew when he left that the fridge was full, so this was his way of covering all bases until he returned."

"Huh…can't say he doesn't think of everything," Hannibal said, then grimaced as he got another whiff of the soap, "But why this?"

She shrugged again and said, "It's more expensive than the kind I usually get, I guess it's supposed to be better or something."

"Yeah well if you don't mind," Hannibal said as he reached for a towel, "I think I'll get something else to use."

"Okay, fine, just don't touch that yellow soap in the cupboard," Jean told him, "That's antibiotic soap from when Murdock had ringworm."

The curtain was yanked back and Hannibal looked at her with a very confused expression on his face. Jean gave him a knowing wink and replied, "You're not the only one who knows certain things about your Captain."

* * *

Murdock wasn't aware that he was awake until he felt the mattress shifting from under him and felt Jean moving away from him. His eyes snapped open and his arms reached over and snaked around her waist and grabbed her. Jean had only been half awake herself, but that woke her up and she tried to pry his hands off of her.

"Come on, Murdock, let go," she said.

"Uh-uh," he answered.

Jean tried wriggling out of his grip and got over towards the edge of the bed when he tightened his hold on her and slowly dragged her back over to his side, murmuring, "Mm-mm-mm," as he shook his head.

"Come on, Murdock, it's morning," she told him.

"I don't care," he said as he half pinned her down, "It's still early, nobody's calling for us yet."

Jean struggled to push him off of her but it didn't do any good, he maintained his tight hold on her and told her, "I'm not getting out of this bed until I have to, and neither are you."

"You're certainly being pigheaded today," she told him.

"Not pigheaded, _strong minded_," he corrected her as he kissed her.

Within a few minutes, both of them had fallen back asleep. Hannibal and Face quietly backed away from the doorway and Hannibal closed it behind them. They had come to deliver the wakeup call when they heard the two talking in the bedroom, apparently they'd just caught the tail end of it before they both nodded off again, still in each other's arms.

"You know something, Hannibal," Face said as they walked down the hallway, "Whenever these two actually _do_ get married, we're _never_ going to be able to get them out of bed."

Hannibal chuckled and replied, "Oh let them have their fun, Lieutenant, first they each spend a week nursing the other back from the flu, and then we take Murdock with us and spend 3 weeks over in Turkey trying to find and rescue a politician's missing 19-year-old son. This was their first night back together again, they're entitled to a break, unfortunately it just wasn't in the cards this time."

"Which reminds me, _have_ you got a plan yet as to what we're going to do with this detainment center?" Face asked.

"Almost," Hannibal told him.

Face just groaned in response.

* * *

Hannibal had decided to let the Captain and the corporal rest for another hour since there wasn't much they could do that early in the morning anyway. They surprised him by already being up and dressed when he came back to deliver the wakeup call. They joined him and the others out in the front yard as they checked over everything they had in the van that they might need for this mission.

"You still haven't explained _how_ we're going to do this, Colonel," Murdock told him, "Is the front door approach going to work with this one?"

"Well I've been thinking about that," Hannibal said, "This is one case where I think we can gain entry courtesy of the First Amendment."

"What!?" everybody asked.

Hannibal just smirked and answered, "Freedom of the Press, we get Amy to come with us, and we tell them that we are doing a piece about how well these detention work centers fair, their success stories, the rehabilitation of youthful offenders and all of that…_any_ place that is actually trying to help the kids would have no reason to object to a press piece about them…and any place that _would_ decline letting us interview them must have something to hide, something that we can very well point out once we meet at the gates. Unless they want people sniffing around where they shouldn't, they _have_ to let us in, and then we'd have them."

"Maybe, but how're you going to get all those kids out of there?" Jean asked.

"We could probably fit them all on one of the buses, and I'm sure if the space was cramped somebody wouldn't mind sitting on a lap," Murdock suggested.

"How many guards _are_ there in this place?" Jean asked Hannibal.

"The kid that found us said there are only 2 men and 1 woman there all the time, anybody else is only there a few hours, or just drives the buses or picks up the food or goes into town to meet with their other associates," Hannibal said.

"3 adults against 30 kids in the middle of the desert?" Jean asked, "Why haven't they killed those guards yet?"

"Because they're afraid," Face said, "We ran some of the names on the last batch of kids taken up there, up till this arrest none of them had ever been in any trouble with the law before, they don't come from the _best_ of families…"

"Well the worst people come from the best of families," Jean told him.

"I don't think any of them have it in them _to_ kill anyone," Face said, "Or if they do, they haven't been pushed far enough yet, even seeing their friends die and get buried in an unmarked ditch hasn't brought it out in them, I don't think anything can."

"The people running that camp know what they're doing," Hannibal said, "They don't get anybody who's violent or defiant because they wouldn't dig, and they _would_ fight back and try killing someone…instead they're making sure they get a bunch of innocent kids who don't know a whole lot and aren't going to try making any trouble, work goes a lot smoother when you do it under conditions like that."

"Of course it would help if before we busted in there was some way we could get word to the kids of what was going to happen," Face noted, "There'd be a lot less confusion and hysteria that way."

"Well we can't send our guy back up there," Hannibal said, "They'd most likely kill him as soon as he was back on the camp grounds."

"Hey," Jean spoke up and raised her hand, "What if somebody else got put on the next bus heading out to the camp? Say…somebody with 'a certain kid sister charm'?" She raised her eyebrows in amusement as she threw Hannibal's own words right back at him and waited to see what his response was.

Hannibal and Face looked at each other as they silently considered the option. Hannibal's own eyebrows went up and his shoulders shrugged and he turned back to Jean and said, "Could work."


	3. Chapter 3

"I got it," Face said as he came in the door waving a paper in his hand, "I got it."

"Well keep it to yourself," B.A. told him, "I'm in no mood for getting sick."

"No, I got…never mind, where're Hannibal and Murdock?"

"Hannibal had the idea that they should fly over the area where the camp is and get a bird's eye view of the place to better layout the strategy for when we get there," Jean told him.

"Isn't that going to make the people there suspicious?" Face asked.

"Maybe, but they stole one of the Army's helicopters, who's going to call up the Army and dispute it?" Jean asked, "So what'd you get that you're so anxious to show us?"

"Oh…your list of instructions before boarding the bus to the Winchester Camp," Face handed it to her, "Consider yourself officially one of the sentenced, 15 year old Joan Myers, arrested for vandalism of public property, sentenced to 3 months at the Winchester Camp for Youthful Offenders, at least that's what I told the guy who was handing these out to everybody sentenced today. I managed to convince them that you had slipped by without getting yours."

Jean unfolded the paper and read out the directions, "Everybody is required to bring their own toothbrush, their own hairbrush, their own shampoo, their own deodorant, everybody is required to bring two changes of clothes and two pairs of shoes. Females are required to bring their own personal hygienic products, males are expected to bring their own electric razors, upon entering camp there will be no razor blades, scissors or knives permitted. Anybody taking medication should bring it with them," she rolled her eyes, "Big fat duh! Reading material is permitted though not required, each offender is allowed up to five books and/or magazines. Pornographic materials will be confiscated upon arrival and discovery."

"Well now where's the fun in that?" Face asked sarcastically.

"They make it sound like a summer camp or something," Jean said, "Hell, even a boot camp, any of them would be better than this Death Valley trap."

Face looked at her and lost his temper, "Jean, what's the matter with you? If this plan is going to work you've got to do _something_ about your appearance."

"What's wrong with it?" Jean asked.

"You're supposed to try and pass yourself off as a teenaged girl."

"And?" Jean asked, "What _does_ a teenaged girl look like?"

Jean stood up and he saw that she was certainly dressed for a youthful appearance, big denim overalls that the straps had been tightened as much as possible, and an old T-shirt with the collar cut out and a tear on the back of one sleeve, and very well worn tennis shoes on her feet. This was a look that ought to make most women pass for 12-year-old girls but something still seemed off. He looked her up and down and said, "Maybe we can do something with your hair."

Jean took a step back as he moved towards her and covered the top of her head with both hands and told him, "Like hell you will. What's wrong with it?"

"Well Jean, most girls wear their hair longer, you can _do_ something with it that way."

"Then you find somebody else for this job," she said, "This is as long as my hair gets and the only thing to _do_ with it is leave it be."

"Maybe we can get you fitted for a wig that'll look more convincing," Face suggested.

"Forget it, it's going to be 100 degrees where we're going and if you think I'm wearing long hair for that you are crazy," she told him, "You try it sometime and see how _you_ like it. Besides," she added, "Hannibal says that I'm going to have to be in that camp for at least 24 hours before they can move in to make sure that nobody's giving us the runaround, you don't think that's going to be a little noticeable in the shower? You know those places don't have individual stalls, they just cram everybody in together like a cheap prison movie."

B.A. snorted and said, "Good thing we ain't sending Faceman in then," and giggled.

"Ha-ha-ha," Face dryly remarked. He turned to Jean and asked her, "Jean, are you sure you're up to this?"

"Face, I spent 6 months hunting down soldiers and SEALs and turning them into Swiss cheese, and you're asking if I can take on 3 twits out in the desert who are clearly such big cowards they can't take on any violent teenagers? Piece of cake."

Face rolled his eyes and groaned and said to himself, "Might as well ask 'how could things get any worse?'"

* * *

Hannibal looked at himself in the mirror, admiring the way his court officer's outfit fit just right. He looked over at Jean who was seated by the bed and looked troubled about something.

"You getting nervous about what we're going to do tomorrow, kid?" he asked.

She looked up at him and said, "I suppose I'd be an idiot if I wasn't, right?"

"You'll do fine, just remember what I told you," he said.

She nodded uncertainly and told him, "It's a lot to remember." She turned to him and said, "We talked to this kid, he says that those guards all carry guns, now _that_ doesn't scare me, I've been shot before, I'm not afraid of that, I'm just _wondering_, _why_ didn't they shoot any of those kids? Why did they just let them all die in the heat?"

"Not as much fun shooting somebody who's not fighting you?" Hannibal shrugged.

"Which reminds me," she said, "I wanted to ask you something…when I go in tomorrow…_what_ exactly is going to be allowed? _Can_ I mess these guys up?"

"Jean, don't go looking for anymore trouble than you have to, we already went over that," Hannibal reminded her, "I want to know if this place is as bad as this kid says it is…but, I really don't think he's pulling our leg."

"Neither do I, people who like to make up stories to get attention will take it pretty far but _nobody_ is going to sweat off 20 pounds for an act, not _even_ in Hollywood," Jean replied.

"Alright, let's go over this one more time," Hannibal said, "You got your radio transmitter, right?"

Jean turned the strap of her shirt inside out to reveal the small bug conveniently hidden away on the underside of her bra strap. She also had one placed in an earring that she wore, a customized clip-on made to look like it was pierced, it was unlikely that they'd try ripping it out, and in any case as long as she kept it on she'd be able to hear back from Hannibal and the others when she talked to them. She wasn't sure _how_ B.A. managed to get these things fixed so they'd work even with a 10 mile difference between the two points, but apparently they'd already been tested before they were put in place, and she was very thankful for that. Where she was going she knew having this form of contact with the outside world was a matter of life or death. As it turned out they'd have to be a lot closer to actually _talk_ to her or hear her, but the transmitters were fixed so that as soon as she tried contacting them, a signal would go off on their equipment. That was Hannibal and Murdock's cue to bring the chopper back around since under the guise of the Army doing whatever it was, they could get far closer to her actual location and they could communicate perfectly from the helicopter. And again, who was going to complain to the Army of one of their aircrafts being over a place it had no business being? Add to the fact they would be traveling at night, because they _knew_ that was the only time Jean would be able to get alone long enough to actually report anything. So far it seemed that Hannibal had everything figured out, maybe he did.

"It should keep working even if it gets wet, though I'm not sure how much of a possibility that's going to be," Hannibal said, "As soon as you figure out how bad the situation really is, get back to us and we'll come in the next morning, until then you're just going to have to tough it out."

Jean shrugged, "Nothing new there. Oh…but Hannibal."

"Yeah?"

"Tell me again how you did that heart attack trick with Lynch when he had you guys in that Kafiristan prison in '73," Jean said, "I may have to try it myself tomorrow."

Hannibal laughed.

"Tell me something else, Hannibal," she said, "_What_ could these people _possibly_ be looking for?"

Hannibal groaned and shrugged as he tried to think of a possible answer, "Whatever it is, if it was buried once it was a long time ago, that ground's pretty much all rock now…of course it could be something else."

"Like what?"

He shrugged again, "Maybe some kind of metal, maybe oil…"

"Like what…a new gold rush?" Jean asked with a scoff.

"All I know is that _nobody_ digs an irrigation ditch in the middle of the desert and _nobody_ digs where there's nothing to unearth."

Jean raised her hand and said hesitantly, "You'll excuse me for saying so, Colonel, but I think you're wrong, there's always another option."

"What's that?" he asked.

"Maybe these people are just a bunch of sadists who get a kick out of working kids to death…the Nazis weren't looking for anything in the ground when they had those trenches dug for the mass graves, were they?" she asked.

* * *

Bright and early the next morning, Hannibal had Jean's arm in a death grip and escorted her out the front doors of the courthouse and to the curb where a group of teenagers were waiting for the camp's bus to pick them up.

"Don't get nervous," he grumbled to her, "You'll sweat off the makeup."

It had finally been decided that about the only thing they could do to make Jean look younger than she was, was to get some foundation makeup and blot out the freckles she'd gotten from years in the sun and also to lighten up her tan. It wouldn't last long but then again nobody would be paying attention, and it could always be attributed to the excruciating work out in a relentless beating down hot sun. Murdock had gotten all philosophical on them as they were getting her ready, talking about it being symbolism for the innocence lost once somebody crossed through the gates into that camp.

"Hold up just a minute!" Hannibal told the bus driver as he was about ready to close the doors, "Got one more here."

"Oh thanks," the man replied.

Hannibal let go of Jean and she walked up on the bus with her bag slung over her shoulder carrying all her 'personal' effects as the list required. She looked at everybody seated and for a minute she lost the air in her. There were about 15 teenagers, all of them trying to look like they didn't care what was going on but it was obvious most of them were scared out of their minds, and right now she had a very good idea how they felt. She went towards the back of the bus and sat down where nobody else was and took a look around. The driver pulled a mesh screen door shut separating the driver's seat from the rest of the seats on the bus and locked it. Jean felt like the elevator doors had just closed on the ride down to hell, how fitting she thought that the camp buses were all pitch black on the outside, and they didn't look much better on the inside.

The bus started and pulled away from the curb, Jean looked out the back and saw Hannibal and the courthouse disappear in the distance, now it was all on her until further notice. She leaned forward and asked one of the girls sitting in front of her, "So what'd they get you for?"

The girl about jumped out of her skin and then turned in her seat and answered, "Shoplifting…you?"

"Oh…" Jean laughed, "I decapitated a few parking meters."

Nobody seemed to get the joke, just as well, if they actually bought it, so much the better. Nobody else said anything, so after a few agonizing minutes, Jean leaned over to ask one of the guys, "You ever been to this place before?"

He shook his head, "Nobody here has, I hear it's bad though."

"Any idea what it's going to be like?" Jean asked.

One of the other boys on the other side of the bus snorted and said, "I know a few guys that went up there but ain't none of them come back yet."

Jean felt her stomach drop as she realized the odds were whoever those guys were, they wouldn't be coming back either.

The bus ride was one of the longest, most excruciating experiences of Jean's life. She kept looking out the windows trying to make notice of any outstanding landmarks or signs that she might need to remember at a later time, all the while trying to get the other passengers on the bus to talk. She had half expected the driver to threaten them if they didn't shut up and she get back in her own seat, but then again she realized,_ what_ exactly could he do about it? If he stopped the bus and came back here personally, he'd be dead and somebody else would either take over driving or they'd get out and turn the bus over. There seemed to be something to say about small favors, otherwise she could see this whole trip getting a lot uglier than it already was.

Before they'd done this, Jean had gotten to meet the kid that had sought out the A-Team. His name was Rocky Arnston, 17 years old though he looked like he could've been her age. He'd given her the long and short of what to expect at the camp, as well as he could've anyway since he had no way of knowing _how_ it worked on the girls' side, though he'd made a point of explaining that the guards weren't anymore lenient on them than they were the boys. She'd been able to laugh it off and reply, "Well we wouldn't want anybody getting special treatment, would we?"

The bus got off the main road and Jean knew they were in the last 10 miles to the camp now. And on the way she realized just how right she'd been, there wasn't _anything_ out here except dirt, rocks and sand, and a few dead trees that should've been ripped out of the ground years ago. Now it was starting to occur to Jean that those guards would probably be able to see anybody coming from a mile away, and she wondered if the reason those guards didn't shoot the kids was because they were saving their ammunition for a bigger target.

* * *

"Hannibal, can you hear me?" Jean asked that night when she'd managed to sneak out to the latrine when nobody was looking, "Come in." She'd already been waiting close to 10 minutes and kept an eye out for any of the guards the entire time.

A few seconds passed, then static, and then she could hear the sound of a helicopter off in the distance, then she heard Hannibal's voice coming over the radio transmitter, "What's going on, Jean?"

Jean rubbed one eye and told him, "Now I know where my boss learned to be such a sadist. If anything, I think it's worse than Rocky said."

"Talk to me, kid," Hannibal said.

"It's _bad_, Hannibal," Jean said as she sat down on the steps outside the small shacks serving as the restrooms, "They told us that this ditch we're digging, this one long continual ditch, must run for three miles…you couldn't dig that with a jackhammer and they've got us trying with hoes and shovels and pickaxes…rock is all it is, there's 45 of us here and we only managed to get 100 yards done today, I don't get it. Also, the girls have to wash all the dishes after each meal _and_ they're also in charge of washing everybody's clothes to use for the next day, no uniforms like prisoners, just the two changes we bring with us. Everybody gets one shower a day, 3 minutes at night after all this labor's over, and you'd think the water would be ice cold so we could actually cool off, but those wise guys have it hooked up to run full hot the whole time."

Hannibal could tell there was more than just what she was telling him, "What is it, Jean?"

"You can see where the first ditch was covered up…where the bodies are," she told him, "I've tried talking to the ones who have already been here for a month, they won't talk much, they're all afraid, they don't think there's any way they're getting out of here. Even the ones who just got here and don't know how bad it is, they're _all_ crying themselves to sleep, nobody ever wanted anything as much as these kids want to get out of here. Tell me you'll be able to get here tomorrow."

"We should be able to," he told her, "Think you'll last until then?"

She snorted, "Don't worry about _me_."

"What's your impression on the guards?" he asked.

"Sadists…anybody slacks off they get beaten until they start working again, even if they're too exhausted to. They took one of the new boys off to the shed today…let him out after 5 hours, I think it's as much about inducing claustrophobia as everything else, he was crying like a baby. You have no idea how much I would've liked to cut their heads off myself, I think the hoe would've been a good choice for that."

"Just remember Jean, now you've got to find a way to clue them in to what's going to happen, without those guards finding out."

"You got it, Hannibal," she said, "See you tomorrow…I hope."

She got up and headed back to the girls' cabin and went in as quietly as possible. Some of them had managed to fall asleep, others could still be heard softly sobbing in their last throes of consciousness for the night. Jean made her way back over to her bed on a bottom bunk that was little better than an army cot; she knew that they'd all be getting up in a few short hours to continue with the backbreaking hard labor, she turned on her side and pulled her knees up and tuned out the sounds of her cabin mates and slowly started to fall asleep. By tomorrow she'd have it all figured out.

* * *

Jean woke up a few minutes before the 5 A.M. wakeup call and she decided now was as good of a time as any to spread the word. She went from bunk to bunk waking all the girls up and when she had all of their attentions, she explained that they were going to be getting out of there soon and that she had come in to infiltrate the camp and that her friends would be coming soon to get them out. Nobody seemed to believe it, and that was understandable, it was too far out _to_ be real, but Jean managed to convince them that it was true, though they didn't seem to have a lot of hope left for their chances of actually getting out of there. Well, she'd explained what was going to happen though she didn't know when, but all that was left to do now was pass the same message on to the boys, but how?

Breakfast was the same as it had been the day before, apparently all the meals were the same thing every day; plain oatmeal, eggs that most likely had been powder with water added, and the kind of bacon that was sold cheaply by the 10-pound cases because it was all fat and nothing edible, and none of it Jean was able to convince herself to swallow, let alone to stomach. Still, she knew that they were going to be working for 5 hours straight before lunch so she managed to choke some of it down. After breakfast when the girls were washing the dishes, she managed to sneak away from them and when it seemed nobody was looking, she managed to creep over to where the boys were kept and tried relaying the same message to them.

"What're you talking about?" one of the boys who had already been there for a month asked.

"Rocky got out and he found us," Jean explained, "That's why I'm here now, we're going to bust this place wide open, but when the others come to get rid of these goons with guns, everybody here's gotta know where to run to so there's no confusion and we can get out of here sooner."

"Are you serious?" another boy asked.

"Believe me I've got better ways to spend my weekend than rotting in the heat in this place," Jean said, "They're going to be here, I just don't know when, until then we've just got to go along like we don't know anything. But believe me, these guys aren't going to leave us here for long."

At least she hoped not anyway.

* * *

By the time everybody went to the mess hall for lunch, Jean was amazed that she'd survived this long. This work mixed with that heat ought to be enough to croak _anybody_. She felt half dead with exhaustion and she had far more experience in this kind of grunt work than most of these kids did. And now, the thought of going in and sitting down to a lunch of plain rice, instant potatoes and cheap beans, and then another 6 hours of ditch digging, no, she just couldn't grasp that concept, and before she realized it she was talking to herself.

"No-no-no, I won't do it," she said, shaking her head, and everybody started to look at her, "I won't do it, you can't make me…I refuse to eat that slop." She let out a strangled laugh and added, "I've been here one day and already I feel like Hawkeye Pierce…" as if that was a cue, Jean kicked her foot up high and knocked the metal tray out of somebody's hands and it made a great noise as first it connected with her shoe, and then with the floor. Jean picked up another tray and beat it on the counter, by now flat out screaming, "We won't eat this crap, we want something else, we want something else!" and repeated it like a mantra. Everybody looked at her like she'd gone crazy, but the handful of adults who were in the hall started to move towards her, all of them looking like they were going to kill her.

"Oh no you don't," she screamed, "You're not going to get me that easily!" She took of running and ran right out of the mess hall with a pack of adults chasing after her. Jean ran back to where the tools had been left discarded on the ground and she picked up one of the hoes and twirled it in her hands like a baton and took a hard swing at one of the men, causing him to step back. She adjusted her hold on it and used the handle to ram right into the other man's gut, then she swung it forth again and the blade cut the other man, leaving a large gash running from his hand down near to his elbow.

Two of the temporary guards rushed Jean and knocked her down and they grabbed her and started dragging her along the ground, off, she realized, to the shed. She resisted enough to make it a challenge for them but there was no real fight in her, she knew this was coming, had anticipated it. The doors were opened and she was thrown in and as soon as she touched the dirt floor, the doors were closed and she could hear them being locked from the outside. At a guess she'd say it was already between 10 and 15 degrees hotter in here than it had been out there even though the sun couldn't shine in. It was with some minor relief that she found out the size of the shed had been underestimated, it was big enough that you could lay down and just stay there until somebody came to let you out. That at least struck her as being slightly more comfortable than crouching on the floor for…how many hours? Until the sun went down they'd said…and it was only noon now…she tried to remember what time it got dark now. At the very least she was looking at 8 hours in this standing pine box…thinking about it like that, she hoped she survived this rustic sweatbox.

Then it hit her, they hadn't searched her. She let out a sigh of relief and just hoped, as she reached into her pockets, that they hadn't broken. Ah ha…she pulled out the two 1-ounce food dye bottles that had been emptied and filled with plain drinking water…of course 2 ounces of water wasn't much to keep _anything_ alive, but it would be more than anyone else locked in here got…maybe it would be enough, she'd just have to hold off until it was absolutely necessary to drink it. Then something else hit Jean, she better get in contact with the others and let them know what was going on. Maybe she could also find out when they'd be arriving with Amy to drop the bombshell on these nuts. She grabbed the strap of her tank top and twisted it to expose the radio transmitter, quietly she said into it, "Hannibal, you read me?"

She waited a few minutes like last time to give them a chance to get up in the air. She was already covered in sweat by the time she heard the helicopter flying overheard nearby, she talked into the transmitter again, and waited and listened listened…there was nothing, not even static. She tried again but there was still no signal that the message had gone through to the other side. Something had gone wrong, it wasn't working, and then Jean realized that just because she heard _a_ helicopter didn't mean it was _their_ helicopter, so they might not even be anywhere near here. Well, Jean thought as she gave up trying, it was just going to be a long wait, in the meantime there wasn't anything for her to do except stay here and wait for either the cavalry to arrive or the sun to go down. And either way she sincerely hoped the wait wasn't too long. It wasn't so much that she was worried about suffocating in here, she just wanted to get out and beat the hell out of those psychos running this death camp. And as she sat there alone in the dark, stuffy shed, she thought of ways to perfect a psychotic act to spring on the guards when she finally got out of here. They didn't bother with any kids who might be trouble, well she grinned to herself, they were in for one _rude_ surprise even before the A-Team got here.


	4. Chapter 4

Jean opened her eyes and let out a sound of surprise when she heard the lock being taken off the doors outside. She looked up and saw them open up and two people came in and dragged her out. There was a warm breeze out tonight but it felt like air conditioning to her after being in that shed all day. The sun was starting to go down though it was still light enough out to see everything. At first she didn't have enough strength to get up so she just lay on the ground, then she shot up sputtering and gasping as two buckets of warm water were dumped on her.

"Consider that your shower for the night," one of the guards told her.

"Mm-huh," Jean weakly groaned as her head swam and she glanced around in disorientation. She brought her arms up and covered her face and her head as if she was simultaneously protecting herself from a pending blow, and waiting for everything to stop spinning.

The guard marched off and two of the boys grabbed Jean and helped her up. She limply swayed from one side to the other like a dead weight and fell down again. Then she opened her eyes and when she saw the guards were out of sight, she sat up and asked the others, "You think they bought it?"

Several of the teens about collapsed from the shock.

"You're alright?" one of the girls asked.

"No, but I'm better than _they_ think I am," she replied.

She'd had no way of knowing what time it was in the shed, but sometime between waking up and falling back asleep she had drank both bottles of water and then stuck then back in her pockets to try and refill later.

Jean had learned a long time ago how to sleep in the heat and become oblivious to it, she'd grown up and spent several summers in a house that didn't have air conditioning and the place had a tendency to heat up to 95 degrees inside and stay that way until the next morning.

One of the older boys leaned over to her and said, "Your friends didn't come," sounding like he knew they'd been set up.

"They will," Jean replied, "You have to remember these guys are wanted by the government and the military, if the MPs came sniffing around, the first thing they had to do was get out of sight. They sent me in here, and if they were going to leave me for dead, they would've done that _long_ ago. Other than this, everything else is going according to plan?"

"What plan?"

"Hannibal always has a plan," Jean said, and that was all she got out before they had to scatter when one of the guards came to get everybody sent back to their own quarters.

* * *

It had been a lot to remember, Jean had told Hannibal that before she ever came here. She lay awake on her bunk while everybody else was asleep that night, and she thought back to everything. She didn't know _why_ they hadn't come today, she tried not to think about the many possibilities that could be responsible. If they hadn't come today, then they would come tomorrow, that's all there was to that. But as far as everything else was concerned, it _was_ all according to Hannibal's plan, everything else was right on schedule.

Hannibal had told her to find out how bad it was, he had also told her to see if it was true what Rocky had said about the shed, he had suggested she do whatever she thought was necessary to get locked up in there, and find out if it was true, if the kids _did_ get locked in, if they _were_ deprived of food and water, if they _were_ locked in all day until the night…yes, oh yes, she had found out firsthand that it was _all_ true. They'd let her out 2 hours after the mess hall had closed for the night, and she honestly couldn't figure out which was worse, starving through another night and another day or having to swallow another one of those powdered breakfasts. As she turned on her side she decided she'd deal with that problem tomorrow when the situation arose.

Hannibal had thought of everything possible for this mission that he could, he had walked Jean through a hundred different scenarios that might occur while she was here and cut off from the others. He'd gone back into full commanding officer mode and did his best to make sure she was prepared for anything that might happen here. She'd never questioned it before, but during those few days Jean started to wonder if before B.A., Face and Murdock, Hannibal had been in charge of other troops and if he got a kick out of ordering them around. He seemed to slip into the role of drill sergeant very well, and was unapologetic for everything he put her through, only warning her before they'd started, "It's nothing personal kid, just stuff that you're going to have to know when you go out there."

She'd stood straight and stared him dead in the eyes and replied, "The Army couldn't break me, and you haven't yet either, and if you haven't, they _won't_ be able to. So go ahead and do your worst."

And he had. He'd spent three days training her, screaming at her constantly, berating everything she did, just like the Army, nothing was good enough, do it again, get it right or else, he'd also pushed her until she started screaming back at him, and he cued her on what to and _not_ to say, regardless of what happened or how mad she got at the guards. A few times, out of nowhere, he'd also gotten physical with her, not so much actually causing any physical pain, just to see how she would react, how she would fight back, what techniques she might use.

The heat was getting to her. Memory and delusion were starting to blur, somewhere in the dark recesses of her mind, Jean remembered, or _thought_ she remembered, at some point during this training regiment, they were both fully engulfed in their parts, going at each other like no tomorrow, only he was still the drill sergeant, the commanding officer, he gave the orders and she obeyed without question, without resistance, or should've anyway. She would almost swear that she could remember him grabbing two fistfuls of her shirt and slamming her against the wall, screaming into her ear, "You're either going to get this right or you're going to do it again and again and again _un-til you PUKE_!"

Jean's eyes flew open and she sat up on her bunk. A dream, that's all it had been, a dream, Hannibal was good but he wasn't that good, not in _this_ decade anyway. Still, he'd been six-inch-nails tough with her in preparation and she'd learned well, he was a great Colonel and a good man to know now, but she could just imagine him being a perfect nightmare having to answer to back in the Army.

But then, there had been that final test, to see just how well she could endure being locked in a small space in excessive heat for hours on end. They'd had a few various ideas on how to go about conducting that little experiment, finally they decided they would use the tool shed behind the garage at Jean's house. It was all metal so it would be considerably hotter than the wooden shack, still, it was as close as anything else they could come up with. She'd gone out with them and agreed to be locked in the shed, somebody would stand guard outside at all times and if the heat got to be too much, she was to pound on the door and they'd let her out. She'd gone in without a watch so she'd have no idea how much time had passed, knowing it would work the same way at the camp. She sat down in the middle of the floor and stayed quiet, and waited. Waiting and silence put together was a nerve wracking, mind blowing experience, and she would imagine a lot of people would go crazy from it. The air was hot and stuffy and everything smelled like dirt, she really didn't know how long she'd last until she started choking on it. It was so tempting to just fall asleep and become oblivious to the heat, but she knew she had to stay awake, if she started to feel disoriented or if it felt like she wasn't able to breathe, then she'd pound on the door, but not until then, she decided.

Ultimately she _had_ fallen asleep, for how long she didn't know, but they opened the doors and carried her out and after she drank a thermos full of ice water, Hannibal told her that she'd lasted for five hours in there.

"How about it, kid?" he'd asked, "You think you'll be able to handle the real thing?"

Jean gasped and huffed over another swallow of water and told him, "Yeah, I'll do it, I'll be fine." What choice did they have? They didn't have anyone else who could go in and do it.

She felt Hannibal's hand on her back and she about jumped out of her skin, he told her, "I'm proud of you, kid", and that just about sent her all to pieces. It wasn't something she hadn't heard before, but it still took getting used to.

That was one of the last things Jean remembered before she left, Hannibal had said he was proud of her. He couldn't possibly know what that meant to her, it was nothing she took lightly, she had earned it and she knew full well just how hard she'd had to work to get that. So far she'd played her part very well, she'd done what needed to be done. And tomorrow would be the second half of Hannibal's plan, Jean went over all _those_ details in her head to make sure that she hadn't forgotten anything…and then she realized something and she quickly got up.

There was something about this whole setting that took her back to when she joined the army…hmmm…some things just went full circle, she realized. She hadn't wondered before why she wasn't worried about being caught when she sneaked out to contact Hannibal on the radio the other night, and now she knew why she hadn't. She remembered when she'd first met the A-Team, something she'd told Hannibal:

"_I've always been an elusive person, I had gotten pretty good at slipping out unnoticed after lights out,"_

It just seemed that that's the way she'd been her whole life, who knew that it would finally start to pay off?

* * *

So far so good, Jean had managed to get into the boys' cabin without being detected so far, now came the hard part, waking everybody up without starting a panic. One by one she managed to get everybody up and alert so they'd pay attention when she talked.

"Sometime tomorrow those guys are going to come here, first there's going to be a man and a woman pretending to be with the press, they're the bait to get these nuts to open the gates. Once that happens the others are going to come in a _very_ big truck so they just knock the gates down. They're all expert shots, one well placed bullet and all the electricity's going to go out, meaning that gate just becomes another gate. That's going to be our cue to scramble over to where the buses are kept and get out of here, everything else is going to be fair game for them to run over, shoot to pieces or blow up," she explained.

"And we get out of here with them?" one of the older boys asked.

"That was the original plan," Jean said, "But I know Hannibal well enough to know he's _not_ going to be content just to turn his back and walk away from this, he's going to want to find out _what_ is buried here that everybody's digging for. Meaning when the time comes to escape, we are likely going to be on our own, now is there anybody here who can handle driving those buses out of here?" A few hands went up, "Fine, when we get close to zero hour we're going to take the temp guards out and get their keys, everybody remember to be on alert tomorrow, we don't know _when_ they're going to come but when they do we are going to have to act fast if we're going to get out of here. _Now_, that just leaves that other matter, _what_ are these people looking for?"

Unfortunately nobody seemed to have any ideas. Jean scratched her head and said, "Whatever it is, it has to be somewhere close by and it can't be very deep in the ground, otherwise they'd be using jackhammers or heavy machinery diggers or even dynamite…but whatever it is, they don't want to risk it being destroyed, _that's_ why they're having it dug by hand, as hard and rocky and petrified as the ground here is, they're looking for something buried in it, and they don't want to risk anything damaging it when it's dug up…so anything metal or covered in metal would be out…leaving what?" She scratched her head and tried to think.

"So what do we do tomorrow?" one of the newcomers asked her.

"I've already explained how and where they're going to come in, the idea is to be _out_ of that line of fire, and over towards the buses, and to do that everybody's going to have to inch back from where the ditch is being dug…"

"The guards will notice if we do that," another boy told her.

She looked at him and explained, "No they won't…_I'll_ see to that, I am an expert at distractions."

* * *

Jean had gone back to the girls' cabin, got them all up and relayed the same message, that way everybody knew what they were doing tomorrow. Now she just had to work on her own part, and she already had a good idea what she was going to do. She just hoped that she could remember enough from her history classes in school to be convincing for what she was going to do. For no more than she'd been here, she hadn't really gotten the hang of figuring out _anybody's_ names, prisoners _or_ guards. Theirs wasn't a first or last name basis, it was more a 'hey you!' basis, so she really couldn't tell who was who. When she thought of the guards she thought in terms of animals: one looked like a rat, the other looked like a ferret, that woman looked like a mangy cat where Jean was concerned. Then those temporary guards, well, they really weren't around long enough to worry about.

Jean felt a horrible pain in her stomach, no wonder, not having eaten anything since breakfast. Good Lord, she pulled up her shirt and looked at herself and felt her stomach and her ribs. Between what she'd lost working on that war movie and what she'd sweated off today, she ought to be just about ready to get fitted for a numbered tattoo on her wrist. Ooh she was looking forward to getting out of here and having this mission done with. All the same, she didn't want to even _think_ about seeing herself in a full length mirror or what number would ring up on the bathroom scale once they got home. She felt sick enough as it is, she didn't need anything reinforcing that awful feeling, and she knew the truth would do just that. She thought back to what she would have to remember tomorrow, and in connection to that, she hoped that the others _did_ come tomorrow, she didn't know that she'd be able to survive another day either out digging that ditch, nor locked in the shed.

The next morning Jean resumed her beaten dog act and had to be forcibly removed from her bed. She remained quiet, sluggish, lethargic, she kept her gaze down and would not make eye contact with anybody. And then, she recognized a pair of boots that were coming her way, they belonged to one of the two male fulltime guards, the rat, she wouldn't raise her head but her eyes looked up to see him sneering and grinning at all once while he laughed at her, clearly pleased by what he thought was accomplished. Suddenly she felt like she was back in training with Hannibal, this man parroted just about everything he'd said to egg her on, pushing, pushing, looking to shove her right over the edge so she would either fight back or break down; carrying on about what a miserable excuse for a person she was, how she was never going to amount to anything, how her life was going to be hell from here on out, how he was in her face and was going to stay there for the rest of her stay here, how her life was about to get a whole lot worse, etc., but to the best of her abilities, she did nothing. And then, when he stopped gloating, a low, guttural laugh started to rise up in her, in her own ears it was Renfield eagerly anticipating Dracula's bidding, she was getting ready for the kill.

The guard wasn't smiling now, and everybody looked at Jean as if she had gone crazy, well, so far so good. She picked her head up and looked straight ahead at him and showed her teeth in a sickening grin, like she was trying to stretch her face out to resemble The Man Who Laughs, or even Mr. Sardonicus.

"You picked the wrong person to mess with, you know that, Chuckles?" she asked him as she flashed a shark-like grin, "You see all these other kids here, they're all scared of you," she laughed maddeningly as she shook her head, "But not me." She inched over towards him and said menacingly, "Come here, let me tell you a little secret…if you try to hit me, I'll bite your arm off," she laughed again.

He didn't know how to respond to that and he actually took a step back before he'd realized he did it. Jean grinned big and wide and told him, "You think you're so tough because you make everybody work for 12 hours a day in this heat digging that rock, because you can lock me in that sweatbox for a few hours? _Ha!_ You'd be the first to die at Bataan." She laughed again, like a certified lunatic, and she could see she had his attention. "You remember the death march? _I_ do…80 mile march on foot, no water, no food, anybody stop for _any_ reason or even ask for water, they were executed on sight. 80 miles traveling on foot, dragged behind trucks courtesy of a rope around your neck, slanted eyed rice eating psychos decapitating soldiers with samurai swords as they passed by." She started snarling and laughing again, Renfield through and through, and then when she spoke, it was almost something not even human, "Have you ever had to bury a comrade alive or risk being executed on sight yourself? You never forget those screams, the moans, the noises of the barely living and the silence of the dead, they stay with you for eternity, and I would know, I _was_ there."

She didn't know if these people believed in ghosts but if the look on his face was any indication, she was doing a very good job of making him believe she had become possessed by one of the American soldiers forced into the march. By now she knew she was zigzagging between historical fact and her own demented ideas but she decided it would be all the better for this plan to work. Truth was stranger than fiction but crazy was something else altogether.

"They march us, they starve us, they bayonet and decapitate us, they laugh as they hit us with the butts of their rifles, when they finally _do_ allow us to stop and sit, it is in the full blown heat of the sun with no shade, for hours on end, then we get rustled into train cars without ventilation and boxed in like cattle with no room to move, and they take us out to the Camp, and _then_ they bring out their doctors to experiment on us and the quacks running _this_ country give those butchers immunity against all war crimes…they think that what happened to us over there doesn't matter, that Europe and its problems were the top priority of America's affair relations with the rest of the world, well there are 11,000 soldiers dead who are not resting peacefully who would beg to differ, and that's just those who died on the march, twice as many died in the Camps in the beginning, and _far_ more to follow until those _cowards_ surrendered, only one third of us ever got home alive, and you know what? _I_ was not one of those…have _you_ seen my head rolling around here any place?" She cackled like a tried and true maniac.

The rat took another step back from her but Jean lunged at him and grabbed him and told him very calmly, "You know when people are deprived of food and water long enough, they start to think things that normal people would never dream of…" she looked him up and down and laughed sinisterly, "When you're trapped and there's no food, people…start to _eat_ each other…go without any water to drink long enough and you start to settle for _blood_, I'll drink _your_ blood my friend…"

Quicker than he could see, Jean lunged forward and bit the shoulder of his jacket, then ducked behind him and wrapped her arm around his throat and pressed against his windpipe so he couldn't scream. A few of the boys had taken the risk of coming over to help, they crowded around and Jean put the guard in the sleeper hold and waited for him to slump into unconsciousness. It worked, and she lowered him to the ground and stripped off his jacket and also took his hat and his sunglasses and put them on. She turned to the others and said, "We've got to get rid of him."

* * *

"This isn't going to work, Face," Amy said as she, he and Murdock went up to the front gate, "_No_ reporter in their right mind would come out here."

"Amy, if reporters were in their right minds, they'd stay home," Face replied.

"Nobody's going to come 10 miles off any road resembling the way to civilization out to this place to get a story," Amy insisted.

"Just remember your lines," Face murmured through the corner of his mouth as he saw one of the guards coming their way.

The man who met them looked about 40 years old, his eyes were hard and his face looked like the desert life had aged him about another 10 years, he was a few inches taller than Face and bulkier than Hannibal, and for the moment Face was actually relieved that there was an electric fence separating them.

"Who are you people?" he asked.

Face took off his glasses and said, "Hello sir, allow me to introduce myself, John Richards, Channel 8 news, would you by any chance be Irvin Teasdale, the owner and operator of the Winchester Camp for Youthful Offenders?"

The man took a look at the three people and he drew back when he saw the other man carrying a video camera that seemed to be running.

"Why do you want to know?" he asked.

"Ah, well," Face turned to Murdock and said, "Turn the camera off for a minute, would you, Dave?" He turned back to the guard and said, "You know how around this time of the year we go into a wide variety of local news stories? Well it's come to a lot of people's attention that the Winchester Camp is becoming the popular choice of residence for the city's juvenile delinquents, and it was decided by our bosses upstairs that doing an exposé on the camp and the men and women behind it who make it the big success it is would be a real ratings grabber. _And_," he added, "A little free publicity to you that will make the public aware of all the good work you're doing with these troubled kids."

Teasdale looked them over and told them, "Just a minute, I have to clear this with my partners."

"Oh, you know what?" Face asked, deciding that this plan wasn't going to work and it was time to go to plan B, "That won't be necessary, I'll just clear it with _my_ boss." He turned around and signaled Hannibal and B.A.

Jean had just locked the padlock on the shed doors and turned to look towards the front of the camp and she saw Face, Murdock and Amy standing outside talking to one of the other guards.

"They're here," she told the boys, "Get the others, and everybody get ready to move."

* * *

A large truck came speeding up the rocky path and from the sunroof, Hannibal emerged with a rifle and opened fire on the power lines up above and ahead. There was a mess of sparks as the wires were shot down, and everybody scattered when they saw the truck coming right at the fence. The truck knocked the fence down and proceeded to drive into the camp, still with Hannibal firing at everybody who looked older than 25, and had them all ducking for cover. Some of the kids mauled the drivers and stole their keys and everybody ran for the buses. Face, Amy and Murdock got back in the car they'd come up to the camp in and drove it into the camp and sped and swerved every which way, causing a nice distraction and making sure none of the guards were able to get at any of the teenagers. Face brought it to a sudden stop and they all jumped out with guns and opened fire at the men.

"Amy!" Face called over to her, "Find Jean and make sure she gets out of here!"

"Right!"

Murdock laughed maniacally as he made the guards dance by shooting the ground near their feet, they'd hold them off until everybody was out.

"Dance, puppets, _dance_!" he yelled with glee.

Amy ran over to where there were about 50 kids scrambling for the buses, keeping an eye out for any tall girls with red hair. Jean was throwing away the guard's jacket and hat and glasses when she just about collided with the reporter.

"Amy!"

"Jean!"

Amy's first reaction was to ask if she was alright, but instead she grabbed Jean by the arm and said, "Come on, we gotta get you out of here."

* * *

Hannibal looked out of the corner of his eye for a brief moment when he heard the buses start up, he saw that they were speeding towards the road out of the camp and he also took notice that nobody seemed to be left behind, for which he was very grateful, that made their job a lot easier, or so he thought. They had seemed to have the guards right where they wanted them, when he heard the click of a gun behind him and heard an unfamiliar voice say, "That's far enough, don't move too quickly."

Hannibal and the others slowly turned around to see who was talking to them, and they all saw a man in a black suit wearing black sunglasses with an automatic pistol in his hand, aimed at what had been Hannibal's back. And behind him stood half a dozen other men who also looked like they had relatives in the orangutan family.

"Drop your weapons," the man said simply but firmly, and emphasized, "_All_ of you."

Hannibal looked back to the others and said, "Well, you heard him, guys."

Reluctantly they all dropped their guns and waited for whatever came next.

Everybody's attention was drawn to the sudden sound of tires squealing, they looked and saw Face's car coming at them in reverse at full speed. Everybody jumped out of the way and tried to take cover as it swerved one way and another and went in full circles all the while driving backwards. Then one of the back tires hit a particularly elevated patch of rocky ground and the whole car flipped over, and rolled a few times before coming to a complete stop upside down.

Two of the armed men went over to the car and jerked the door open and Jean half rolled, half fell out of it and onto the ground. She was jerked to her feet and marched over towards the others.

"Sorry, Hannibal," she said with a shrug and a smug smile when she was able to get right up next to him.

"It was a nice try, kid," he said simply before they were marched off at gunpoint.

* * *

Hannibal felt like he'd swallowed some of the rocks they were digging and that the air in him was trying to get around them so he could actually breathe. The sweat was pouring down his face like a melted painting and his tongue was thick as leather and his throat felt like sandpaper, and he knew the others were the same way. They'd been put to work continuing the ditch an hour ago, and he knew that Jean hadn't been exaggerating, it was just about impossible to break up the ground with the tools they were stuck using. But there were about five guns aimed at them that gave them all the initiative to keep working until they found whatever the hell these men were looking for.

Face, Murdock and Jean were all working alongside one another careful not to hit each other with the pickaxe or the shovels, and when the guards had walked past them, Face leaned over to Jean and asked her, "_Why_ didn't you leave with the others?"

"I did what needed to be done," Jean told him as she grimaced and ran her wrist over her forehead, "I got the kids out, I got Amy out, I made sure she was on the first bus leaving. She'd never be able to survive this place."

Face had half a mind to make a remark about her faith in Amy being _so_ overwhelming, but he thought about the fact that Jean had already spent two days in this place, and he said, "Yeah, I guess you're right."

Jean turned and looked at Murdock, who for as hot as it was, and as they all were, still had his jacket on and zipped up, she didn't even know _what_ to say about that. She turned and looked the other way, and she noticed something. None of the kids had ever gotten this far when they were digging, and from here she was able to see another wooden shack, this one was larger than the shed they locked the kids in, and there wasn't anybody standing around the place to guard it. Hannibal noticed it too, and it gave him an idea.

After another half hour of busting up the ground, Jean let out a sudden moan and collapsed on the ground. The Team dropped their picks and shovels and crowded around her to see what had happened, she was unconscious and all her skin was bright red, even her eyelids had gotten burnt.

"Come on," Hannibal nodded towards the shack, "Let's get her out of the sun."

B.A. picked Jean up in his arms but as they got up, they heard one of the guards get their rifle ready to shoot them.

"Get back to work," the man in the black glasses told them.

"You go to hell, pal," Hannibal told him, "If you're going to shoot us, go ahead and shoot, otherwise we're moving her."

Surprisingly, the guards did nothing and let them pass. They went over to the shack and found the lock broken, so they took Jean in. There was a small window so the light could come in, but with the door being open it was fairly well ventilated and a bit cooler than outside. It looked like the place had been used for storage of some things; Hannibal was able to get a makeshift table put together out of two old sawhorses and a couple of large boards that were lying around. He also found some old sheets that had been used for drop clothes and tried beating the dirt off of them to use. B.A. laid Jean out on the table and she still was not responsive to anything that was happening. Hannibal started tearing the sheets into ribbons and told her, "Alright Jean, the coast is clear."

She slowly opened her eyes and asked in a weak, tired voice, "Think they bought it?"

"Could be," Hannibal said, "Anybody who doesn't know you would probably buy it, personally I thought it was a little overly dramatic."

Jean heard the sound of a zipper and she looked and saw Murdock was opening his jacket, and now she saw why he'd kept it on in the heat. They hadn't come unprepared, he had a water canteen tied against his ribs. Jean closed her eyes and a few seconds later felt the mouth of the canteen pressed against her lips. She opened her mouth to say something and instead had a mouthful of water running down her throat. She coughed and sputtered and when she was able to talk again, she weakly shook her head and told Hannibal, "You shouldn't have wasted the water."

"You needed it worse than we do," he replied.

Jean coughed again and tried to clear her throat, she felt a buildup of mucus and tried to dislodge it, and then opened her eyes as she realized it was blood she was tasting, a second before blood started pouring out of her nose.

"Oh! Geez," Face said as he took a step back from the table.

Hannibal hovered over her and noted, "It's not gushing out, probably just a blood clot," he ripped off a piece of the drop cloth and told Jean, "Here, blow it out."

She did and then the bleeding seemed to stop. Hannibal doused another piece of the sheet in water from the canteen to clean her up, Jean had protested but Hannibal had pointed out the bugs would eat her alive otherwise.

"Alright, Jean, you stay here and rest, be quiet, and we're going to go back out there and see what the hell all these people are so anxious to find, I have a good idea that whatever it is, we're close to finding it."

Jean looked at him and said, "You _knew_ you'd get caught, didn't you?"

"I expected there was more going on here than just what met the eyes," he said, "I suppose you could say that."

She managed a weak laugh and told him, "I suspect half the time you _plan_ to get caught, you can't ever leave anything half done."

Hannibal said nothing to either confirm or deny, only flashed a small knowing smile at her.

Jean could hardly keep her eyes open anymore and it was no wonder, the whites of them were bright pink, burnt from the sun and the wind, matched the rest of her face almost perfectly. Hannibal had her lie back down and he wetted down a third rag he tore from the sheet and placed this one over the top part of her face and he told her, "Keep that on there, don't move, don't say anything, we'll come back for you as soon as we can, alright?"

She nodded lightly.

"Alright," Hannibal gently took her hand in his for a second and squeezed it, "Bye-bye."

One by one she felt the others touch her hand or her shoulder on their way out, Murdock was the last to leave, he stayed behind for a few seconds and ran his fingers through her hair since he didn't want to touch any part of her that'd been burnt.

"We'll get out of this somehow, you'll see," he told her.

Jean peeled back one corner of the rag and winked at him with a weak smile and she replied, "I _know_ we will, I managed to get a message sent out with Amy, I suspect help's already on the way, and ought to be here _just_ in time for Hannibal to make his oh so important discovery."

"What help?" Murdock asked.

Jean giggled and said, "These guys are about to face an ambush of their own, I called in a favor to some of the other stunt workers I know."

Murdock couldn't resist grinning when he heard that, "Well, looks like the cavalry's going to be on its way after all." And he went out to join the others.


	5. Chapter 5

Face huffed and wiped the sweat from his brow as he took a short break from digging. As he did, he looked up at the men who had them surrounded, and a light bulb went off in his head.

"Hey Hannibal," Face called over to him and pointed, "Am I…" he swallowed roughly, "Am I seeing things, or does our guest of the hour here look familiar?"

"Don't ask me," Murdock shook his head, "I don't see _anything_, not even a mirage!"

"Shut up, crazy fool," B.A. told him.

Hannibal stopped digging and looked up at the man in black as well, "Yeah…I thought he looked familiar, couldn't think of from where though."

"What're you jabbering about, Hannibal?" B.A. asked.

"Allow me to introduce you, B.A.," Hannibal looked up and gestured to the man, "Say hello to Johnny Furillo, son of former big crime boss, Antonio Furillo, who was sentenced to 30 years in prison for money laundering and income tax evasion about 20 years ago."

"They always find a way," Face smartly remarked, "If they can't get them for murder they'll get them for not paying their taxes."

"As memory serves," Hannibal said as he looked up at the man, "Senior Furillo passed away while he was still locked up about five years ago, which always left the matter of his money a mystery given he didn't believe in wills…and I'll just bet you that's what we're here for now. What's the least likely place anybody is going to expect a city born and bred gangster to put all his ill gotten gains? Out in the middle of nowhere, out in the desert, and I'll just bet you Junior here found out a rough location of where that was, and that's why everybody's here now."

"Ah but why the camp?" Face asked, "Why the kids?"

"Labor doesn't come any cheaper than prisoners," Hannibal explained, "And lesser questions are going to be asked when it's done under the guise of rehabilitating juvenile delinquents, everybody knows that minors' rights are extremely limited. Also consider that establishing this place as a privately owned camp, severely limits the public's access to it, he had this whole area gated off so he'd know where _to_ and _not_ to dig. This is assuming there's not a sociopathic motive behind it as well, you know how people are who can't stand for other people to have a good life if they don't? And what's more cold blooded than working a bunch of scared kids to death in this heat? That's why this place is as bare bones as is possible, inadequate housing, the cheapest food that can be bought in mass quantities, two showers for 50 people, hiring those three nitwits to run the place and keep him informed of any updates…it was a small price to pay given what the payoff would be when and if the money was ever found. Then by the time people found out what happened to the kids, these guys would all be off in another country with no extradition treaty, under new identities living high off the barbecued hog."

Johnny Furillo aimed his gun at Hannibal and said, "Keep talking, pal, and you're going to join them."

Murdock stepped on the blade of his shovel to force it deeper into the ground and he about fell off when he heard a loud splintering CRACK under the dirt. The others turned towards the sound and Hannibal took his own shovel and used it to push away the loosened dirt and revealed a very old wooden coffin in the ground below.

"Ah, I believe we've found the root of this whole mess," he said. He raised his shovel up over his head and thrust it clear down to break off the seal of the coffin and he pushed the lid open, it fell into pieces as it did. Inside the coffin, all four members of the A-Team were more than just slightly surprised to see the full extent of the amount of money in the coffin. Stacks and stacks of $100 and $500 bills strapped up and sealed away in plastic to protect against the elements. Hannibal took into account the size of the coffin and how many bills could possibly be stacked from top to bottom in it and he said, "My guess, probably about $20 million here."

Murdock let out a dry whistle.

"Let's see, $20 million," Face turned back to the path where the last ditch had been recovered with the loosened earth, "Against, what do you think, 7-8 dead teenagers? Yeah," he sarcastically added, "I guess that sounds about right."

"And four dead men," Furillo added as he cocked his gun.

Hannibal looked to the outskirts of the camp, he didn't know if he was starting to see mirages of not, but he could see a large old U.S. Army truck speeding towards them. And behind it, he could see several others just like it.

"Oh I don't know," he said with a breathless huff, "I'm sure that we can reach an understanding."

By now everybody could hear the roaring trucks and turned to see the trucks knock down the rest of the front gate and come speeding in, and they just barely got past the gate when shots that sounded akin to machine guns rang out from the vicinity of the trucks.

"Wow!" Murdock exclaimed in amusement as he watched the show, "This is better than the demolition derby!"

The four commandos stayed where they were and just watched the trucks playing chicken with the group of men who were running for their lives. Hannibal watched with equal amusement and just chuckled.

The door to the shack opened and Jean casually walked out and into the middle of all the commotion and tried to smile over her burn and exhaustion. When everything came to a standstill and the gunfire had stopped, she told the man in black, "You're outnumbered, Furillo, and outgunned, what's it gonna be?"

Hannibal laughed, then turned when he heard the doors of one of the trucks open up, and he saw two familiar faces climb down and jump out. Peter Kellerman and Jason Crowley, two stunt men that Jean had a long history with, and they'd become well acquainted with as well over the years, these two knuckleheads had assisted them with a couple jobs before in the past.

"Hey Hannibal!" Jason called out as he walked over to them, "How was that?"

"Crowley, that was fantastic!" Hannibal told him over a laugh, "How did you guys ever get here?"

"Amy told us," Kellerman told him.

"Well how did Amy…" Hannibal turned to look back at Jean, "Oh I see…" he turned back towards the men and said, "Well thanks for helping, we really appreciate it."

"Hey no problem…Jean got in touch with us a few days ago and said to be standing by for something big, we decided this was big enough for an entrance, uh, did it look realistic though?" Crowley asked.

"Why would you ask that?" Hannibal asked.

"Because we just fired 300 rounds of _blank_ ammunition at those guys," he answered, "The prop department's going to hate that though, turns out they're more expensive than the real thing."

"Oh, just like in Batman," Murdock said.

"So uh, what do we do with our little friends now, Hannibal?" Face asked.

"Well isn't it obvious?" Hannibal asked, "We call the police and let them know where they can find a coffin full of dollars and a handful of estúpido crooks."

"Well, _how_ are we going to make sure they stay here until the cops come?" Face asked.

"Easy, we dismantle any remaining vehicles we don't take with us, it's a 10 mile walk from here to the beginning of civilization, that's a long way to go in 100 degree weather without any water," Hannibal said.

"How do you know they won't have any water?" Murdock asked.

"We'll turn it off before we leave," Hannibal told him and smirked grimly at Furillo, "Give you a little taste of what you've been doing to these kids. If I wasn't pressed to get out of here I'd be inclined to give you the _full_ treatment including burying you in that _irrigation_ ditch, except I'd take the courtesy of leaving your final resting place uncovered and let the buzzards and the vultures peck at your bones and pick your eyes out."

"Speaking of which," Jason told Hannibal, "We were told to come prepared so we've got some water in the truck for everybody."

"Yippie," Jean dryly remarked, "There's a little piece of good news." She managed to stagger over to the two stuntmen and got her arms around them before she collapsed against them and sank to the ground.

"Get her into the truck," Hannibal told them.

Jean got up and pulled away from them momentarily and stumbled over to Hannibal and she asked him breathlessly, "Did I do alright, Colonel?"

There was something underlying in the question and Hannibal picked up on that. He looked at Jean and it hit him just how serious of a question it was for her. The woman was half dead from heat, dehydration, hunger, and exhaustion, she couldn't even keep her eyes open anymore, and could hardly stand on her feet, but she stood at ease and awaited his answer. He smiled at her and answered, "You did well, Corporal, thanks."

Jean managed a weak smile before she fell down again from exhaustion.

* * *

"Careful, Jean," Face told her as he watched her continually drain the canteen she was drinking from, "You'll make yourself sick again."

They were sitting in the back of one of the trucks the stunt workers had brought in, waiting for Hannibal and B.A. to join them so they could all leave for home. Jean finished drinking and then doubled over, her chest heaving up and down as she breathed funnily and covered her mouth. Then it passed and she swallowed heavily and sat upright again. Murdock dug around in a cooler the stuntmen had brought with them and dug out an icepack and tried pressing it on the side of Jean's face that had taken the most abuse from the heat and sun.

"Give me that, I'll do it," she weakly insisted as she pressed it against her cheek, and flinched in response to the cold, then eased into it.

"So," Face said hesitantly, "I suppose you're wondering why we didn't get here until today."

"Would you believe it if I said I don't _care_ what the reason is?" she asked, "You know, I tried contacting you guys when I got locked in the shed, the transmitter didn't work."

"Not on our side either," Murdock told her, "Not that it would've mattered anyway, Decker was so close on our tail he was practically in front of us."

"I figured as much," Jean said as she leaned against him, "Eight hours in that damn shed, I must've sweated off 10 pounds, easy to see why so many people died in there."

"At least now it's all over," he said.

Jean nodded and tilted her head back to look at him, she managed a small smile as she said to him, "You remember that little talk we had the night before I left?"

"I remember," Murdock said as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against him.

"You said 'Just come back safe, that's all I ask', well I'd say for the most part I upheld my part of it," she told him, "All things considered."

Face smiled as he watched his two friends, he didn't like admitting it but he could tell they were good for each other, and he was happy for both of them.

"Incidentally, Jean," he said, ruining the little moment between them, "Exactly _where_ did you learn to drive like that?"

"I saw "D.C. Cab", 5 times," Jean told him.

They heard Hannibal approaching and heard him knock on the back of the truck, "Everybody ready to go?"

"Yes," they answered.

"Good, then we can get out of here," Hannibal said as he and B.A. climbed in, "The police ought to be here soon and I gave them a _very_ interesting account of what's been going on around here. I'm sure they'll find it _very_ intriguing when they arrive."

"Got everybody tied up?" Face asked.

"Yep, they shouldn't be going anywhere anytime soon," Hannibal answered.

"Hannibal," Jean tiredly murmured, "Sun treatment, give 'em the sun treatment like they did at Bataan."

"What'd she say?" Hannibal asked.

Murdock shrugged, "I don't know."

"She get enough to drink?" he asked.

"Until we get home," Face answered.

Jean nodded and groaned, "Water ain' touching it…get home, gonna get a _big_ glass of ice tea, _lot_ of sugar…" then she fell asleep.

* * *

Jean groaned in both discomfort and disgust as Hannibal applied a thick layer of aloe burn gel to her shoulders and her back where she'd gotten burnt.

"Don't complain," he told her, "Could be worse, could be petroleum jelly, then you'd know how it feels to be the inside of a tuna can."

"I hate this," she replied.

Once they'd gotten back into L.A., they'd gone to Jean's house to access the full damage there. Her skin was still bright pink and her shoulders and the skin right under the back of her neck were already starting to blister. For a short term quick fix he'd run her through a cold shower to cool her down, then he'd had her change her clothes and into the coolest shorts and tank top she owned. Now he was getting her slathered in aloe and after that, he expected her to rest for the next couple of days until the new skin grew in. And now, he was getting her settled on the living room floor on some blankets and sheets that he'd had Murdock put in the freezer first to get them cold.

"You're just like my mother, you know that?" she asked.

"How's that?" he wanted to know.

"She used to do this to me too when I was a kid…always made me lie down on the living room floor to take a nap when it got hot…even had a blanket _just_ like this," she stabbed her finger into the thick cotton under her, then allowed herself to lie down on it and added, "_Is_ comfortable, though…"

Hannibal chuckled and told her, "Hey listen, Jean, I just wanted to let you know that I'm really proud of you, thanks for helping us."

"Yeah well, I'm glad to do my part but between you and me, Hannibal," she shook her head, "I hope I don't ever have to do anything like this again. I'm not sure…but I think I'd almost take the freezer instead of that shed again."

Hannibal felt his stomach drop when she said that. He rubbed her back where it hadn't been burnt and half groaned, "Oh kid."

"Of course," Jean remarked as she leaned back against him, "If this were winter back in New York then I'd be saying I'd rather take the shed than the freezer, always just goes from one extreme to the other, doesn't it? Where they exist anyway. _Now_ it's going to be 2 days of blistering and peeling before this is finally over with, already I can't wait for it to be over."

"Well at least you'll have an attentive nurse," Hannibal told her with a smirk.

Murdock came down the stairs and into the living room carrying a pair of Jean's sunglasses. "Look what I found," he said as he knelt down and put them on her, "That ought to help until you get the whites back in your eyes."

Jean adjusted the way they fit and said, "Thanks, Murdock."

Hannibal got to his feet and told them, "Well, I think I'll be leaving now, I'll see you guys tomorrow."

"Thanks, Hannibal," Murdock said.

"Yeah, thanks," Jean added.

After he had gone, Jean lay down on the sheets and told Murdock, "Well I'd say that went better than planned."

"So how're you feeling, darling?" he asked.

"I feel like one of those hot peppers you can't even touch without getting a rash from it," she told him, "Three days out in the dead heat, no shade, _nothing_ to protect anybody from that sun…they're amateurs but they sure _would've_ been good at running a death camp I think." She groaned as she moved and said, "I feel sorry for those parents who're going to find out their kids are dead…they ain't _ever_ gonna recover from this."

"I know," Murdock replied, "At least we shut them down before anymore joined them."

"Mm-hmm," Jean murmured as she turned her head to the side and closed her eyes.

"And at least we're home again now," Murdock said, and lightly poked her stomach, "Now I can see about fattening you up again, you got too skinny."

Jean snorted and remarked, "Look who's calling the Liberty Bell cracked."

"Besides," Murdock said with a grin as he got down on the floor beside her, "At least now we're going to have a few days to ourselves."

"Yeah I'm sure that's gonna be _real_ fun when my skin starts coming off," Jean said.

* * *

It had been a miserable night, every couple of hours Murdock had to get up and either re-coat Jean in the aloe cream, or rub her down with ice because she was still burning up. He'd found a few rags and chilled them in ice water and then tied them around her arms so she'd be cool for a while, until the rags had to be changed. At 5 in the morning Jean was curled on her side trying to sleep, when she heard a bunch of cartoon sound effects emanating from the TV. She reluctantly opened her eyes and saw that the television set was on, but she didn't see Murdock anywhere. Confused, Jean started to sit up, and then fell back on the floor groaning. Her whole body was telling on her now, pulled muscles were stabbing her everywhere; she curled back on her side and held her side right by her hip that was especially giving her trouble.

After a minute, the pain weakened and Jean was able to sit up again. She looked around the room and when she didn't see anyone, she called out, "Murdock!"

"Coming, I'm coming!" she heard his voice from the kitchen.

"Murdock, what's going on?" Jean asked as she rubbed her eyes.

"Well I figured since neither of us was actually getting much sleep, we might as well watch the Saturday morning cartoons," Murdock answered as he sat down beside her on the floor.

"I thought today was Sunday," she said.

"I taped them yesterday," he told her.

"Ah…"

Jean lowered her hand from her eyes and saw he had two bowls of cereal, she took one from him and noticed how cold the bowl was from the milk, almost like ice. Sheesh, even her hands must've been burnt for it to feel that cold. She reached her other hand over the opposite shoulder to try and feel her skin to see if it was starting to peel off yet or if it was still blistered, but Murdock grabbed her hand and pulled it back.

"Don't do that," he told her.

"How bad is it?" she asked.

"Just leave it alone," he said, "It'll go away soon enough."

"Figures," Jean said as she shoveled a spoonful of the cereal into her mouth, then spit it back into the bowl, "What is this stuff?"

"Ah…I think it's called Sweet Nuts, it _did_ used to be Sugar Corn Pops…I think," Murdock said.

"Who did the grocery shopping last?" Jean asked as she tried another bite, "Remind me to kick them later when I'm feeling better." Then she realized something and put her hand back up in front of her eyes, "Where're my sunglasses?"

"You took them off last night so you wouldn't break them, remember?" Murdock asked.

"My eyes…how do _they_ look?" she asked.

Murdock got up from the floor and turned on the lights to see. Jean held her eyes as wide open as she could while he examined her.

"A little bloodshot now, but that's more normal," he concluded.

Jean snorted and asked him, "What would you know about normal?"

Murdock stuck his tongue out at her as he sat beside her on the floor again and they watched reruns of Hong Kong Phooey.

* * *

A week later, Face, B.A., Amy, Jean and Murdock were all trying to get comfortable in the hotel suite Face had scammed for them while they waited for Hannibal to get back. Face stood by the window watching the rain pouring down, B.A. and Amy were seated on opposite ends of the couch, and Jean and Murdock were lying in the bed, presumably asleep. It had done nothing but rain for the last two days and everybody was getting in a mood because of it.

"Go on a vacation, you said," Amy said, "The beach is so nice at this time of the year you said."

"Well how was I supposed to know it was going to rain the whole weekend?" Face asked.

"Ever hear of checking the weather report on TV?" B.A. asked.

"Well in all fairness, it was Hannibal who said we ought to go on vacation, get us away from Decker for a while."

"Yeah, and instead we're going to be spending the whole vacation in this hotel room listening to him and her," Amy pointed over to Jean, "Going over their lines for a new movie."

"I still don't get how Hannibal could possibly get a speaking part," Face said, "He knows what would happen if he was actually seen on film."

Murdock yawned and asked Face as he turned over on his side, "What difference does it make? They already know he's an actor, they know _where_ he works, so what does it matter by now?"

Jean grumbled something in agreement as she also shifted her position on the bed.

They heard someone come down the hall and B.A. and Face got their guns ready but it was only Hannibal, who returned with his script in hand.

"Alright, Jean, get up," he said.

"What's the rush?" Jean asked as she slowly pushed the covers back.

"We start reading with the rest of the cast tomorrow," Hannibal told her, "So it might be a good idea to get an idea what we'll be saying."

Jean yawned and stretched and said, "I don't see what the point is, there's always that _one_ wise guy who causes the whole scene to stop because he can't remember his lines, gets two lines an hour and he can't remember them, what the hell?"

"Come on," Hannibal said as he tossed Jean's pages to her.

* * *

When Hannibal had auditioned for a role in this new movie, he figured he was finally catching a break, trying on something different after his extensive history of rubber monsters. Insofar as he could tell, this new movie was some political thriller, but it was more dialogue than actual action. But he couldn't tell too well just _what_ the whole thing was about because each actor was only given their own lines, not a whole script so they could tell what everybody else's lines were, nor what the storyline was.

"You know, Hannibal," Jean said, "I know scriptwriters are a dime a dozen, but their work shouldn't _sound_ like you're getting what you pay for."

"This is some of the worst dialogue I've read in my life," Hannibal told her, "And believe me I've read through a good number of stinkers."

"Yeah well," Jean yawned, "I think I've got an idea."

"What's that?"

"I think what I'm going to do is get my typewriter, and punch up some _new_ lines to say and replace my script…that way, it's not what everybody else has, but it's the script, what're they going to do? And if it turns out better than this junk they've come up with, so much the better," she explained.

"That's a good idea, maybe you could rewrite mine as well," Hannibal said as he started ripping pages off his script and sent them flying, "You play a rubber monster for 10 years and everybody automatically assumes that you wouldn't know good writing if it bit you."

"Yeah well, I give up," Jean tossed her script clear across the room and got up, "I'm going to go join Murdock down in the arcade."

"Actually Jean, I think he went down to the pool," Hannibal told her.

"That's fine too, anything to get out of this room," Jean stepped behind a changing screen in the room over by the closet, and in record time emerged changed into a red and blue 1-piece swimsuit, "See you later."

Hannibal waved her off and couldn't resist commenting, "Don't bite anybody."

A few minutes after Jean left, Hannibal thought about it, then he gathered up his script, went to the window and said to himself, "I think there's a big wind tonight, let's see," he opened the window and added, "Oh _yes_, quite a strong wind, oh look at that!" he tossed the script as far out the window as he could throw it and said to himself, "Big wind came up and just _blew_ the script out the window, well, can't learn the lines now…" and he about doubled over choking on his own laughter. He dug out the swimming trunks he always wore under his Aquamanaic suit, got changed and went to join the others down at the pool. After all, he _was_ on a vacation too. And rain or no rain, he intended to enjoy himself just like everybody else.

* * *

When Hannibal and Jean got to the studio the next morning, they were taken to a room where all the cast members who shared a scene together sat around a big table, reading through their lines in the scripts in an initial rehearsal reading to see if everybody could get the feel of the dialogue. They were seated together though they barely had any lines with one another. Everybody started reading through their lines, but when it came time for Hannibal to speak, he just sat there with a cat-that-swallowed-the-canary grin on his face and asked innocently, "Oh I'm sorry, do I talk?"

"John, where's your script?" the director asked.

"Oh I'm afraid the wind blew it out the window last night," Hannibal shrugged his shoulders helplessly.

"You really expect us to believe that?"

"I'm as sure of that as I am that I'm sitting here now," he answered.

So the rehearsal was delayed while they got another set of Hannibal's pages. And they resumed the reading, and once when they came to his part, he stopped everything. This time he reached into his jacket, took out a pen, and started crossing out his lines and he told the director, "I'm not saying this, this _or_ this, pal."

"What do you mean you're not going to say that?" he wanted to know.

"This dialogue is too cornball for me to say," he answered, "Maybe it doesn't seem like it based on the previous parts I've played, but I have my dignity."

"John, you can either keep your dignity, or your job, what's it going to be?"

"I'll keep my job, but with _half_ of the dialogue you gave me," Hannibal held up the now 'corrected' script and told him, "That's a fair compromise."

All the other actors were stunned silent, but Jean just about fell to the floor laughing at Hannibal's antics. Then came the moment when the director realized her lines didn't match what she was supposed to be saying, and they went through a similar argument. During the middle of their argument, Jean inquired if perhaps there was a writers' strike currently ongoing and that was the reason for the poor scriptwriting. Miraculously that somehow didn't get her fired, so once they got through the reading rehearsal they went to prepare for the first day of filming.

Everybody got into place for the first scene they were going to shoot, Hannibal and another man were supposed to draw their guns on one another and interrogate each other as to their unexpected appearance in the same office. Hannibal either hadn't picked up his gun from the prop department yet or just hadn't taken it out, but he saw the gun that the other man had, and he promptly disappeared for 10 minutes, and returned with a gun twice as big. It was another headache for the director as well as _everybody_ who wanted to start shooting, but they still went ahead with the scene as planned.

By the time filming was done for the day, Jean walked with Hannibal out to his car and she told him, "I think I'd rather get blown to pieces in a war movie gone bad, if I have to actually do _this_ role, I'm going to die of boredom."

"Well, you wanted something slower," Hannibal told her.

"If we go any slower on this project, we're going to go backwards," Jean pointed out.

"Hmm," Hannibal said as he inhaled off his cigar, "Well, you could always quit, find something else."

"And you?" Jean asked.

"Well, ordinarily I'd say it's petty to quit over a bunch of little creative differences, but even I have to wonder where this film is going," he told her.

"So…do we quit?" Jean asked him.

He stopped and turned to her, and he said, "I can live with it, can you?"

She nodded, "There's something to be said for blissful unemployment…besides, while you guys aren't currently on any new missions, I'm sure Murdock would appreciate having a stay-at-home girlfriend."

"Sounds like a plan," Hannibal replied as they got in his car and headed for home, "What's the worst they can do, blacklist us?"

"Not me," Jean said with a smug grin, "They don't know my politics."

Hannibal chuckled as they drove off into the night.


	6. Chapter 6

Murdock let out a prolonged sigh of content as he soaked in the hot water in the bathtub. Jean smiled as she swung her legs over the side of the tub and sat on the edge behind him with her back pressed against the wall.

"Much better," she said as she eyed him up and down.

Murdock groaned contentedly as he leaned back towards her and said, "After 3 days out in the dirt, this is _real_ nice."

"Not bad from _this_ side either," Jean said humorously as she glanced down the length of his spine, until the bubbles got in the way. She reached down and ran her hand through his wet hair and smiled to herself. They stayed that way for a few minutes before either of them was willing to break the silence. Finally Jean inhaled noisily and she looked down at the pilot and said, "Murdock?"

"Hmm?" he tilted his head back to look up at her.

Jean took in another breath before she said to him, "I want to go back to New York for Mother's Day."

Murdock tilted his head down and slowly nodded, "Alright, when would you like to leave?"

"Friday if possible," she said.

He nodded again, "We can do that."

Jean leaned forward and wrapped an arm around his chest and got pressed as close against him as she could without falling into the tub behind him. "Thank you," she said as she tilted her head to the side and kissed his cheek. "Remind me how the thing with carnations go? Red if your mother's alive, white if she's dead?"

"Yeah," Murdock answered.

"So what does a pink carnation mean?" she asked.

"I don't think it means anything," he said.

"Well why the hell not?" Jean asked, "Put red and white together and that's what you get. And suppose the red and white crops fail for the year, what do you do then?"

Murdock shrugged helplessly, "Beats me."

"Who started that anyway?" Jean asked, "The church?"

"I think it was florists," Murdock told her, "Something about a shortage of white carnations, so they were reserved only for dead mothers."

"Huh," Jean snorted as she swung her leg back to the edge of the tub and got up, "I guess nobody ever told those florists that a lot of the people in the cemeteries of this country are mothers."

"What about the others?" Murdock asked, "I mean B.A.'s going to go to Chicago to be with his mother, but what about Hannibal and Face? You want them to come with us or not?"

Jean stopped to think about it, the question took her by surprise. "Well, I suppose Face could use the motherly exposure, and she seems to get a kick out of making a fuss over him as well. It'll be nice to see her again…"

Murdock reached for a towel and held it up to block the view when he stood up, "You going to tell her yet?"

Jean shook her head, "No…I want to give her some more time before I suggest they move out here…let them get through one more summer, when it starts getting cold then I'll bring it up and see what she says."

Murdock lifted the drain plug and went over to Jean, and looked at their reflections in the medicine cabinet mirror as he wrapped his arms around her. "We'll get them out here yet," he told her, "You just wait and see."

"Yeah, and then I gotta deal with her worrying about me every time I go off with you guys," she said, "When she's 3,000 miles away I can lie to her. As if she didn't worry about me _before_ I got shot…you know it's funny, _I'm_ the one who almost died, you'd think I'd be more worried about something awful happening too."

"You're young, you bounce back easier," Murdock said.

"I'd like to have my parents here, but it's going to be a hell of an adjustment for _everybody_ involved," she pointed out.

"Well," Murdock shrugged, "At least you won't have to go through it alone."

* * *

On Friday, Hannibal and Face accompanied Jean and Murdock to their 'rented' jet plane and left for New York. Initially Jean sat up front with Murdock in the cockpit but after a while she went back to the cabin to join the others, and as they passed over the state line, she got them caught up on her and Murdock's plan to bring her parents out to Los Angeles.

"Well on one hand they'd just be trading one bunch of freaks for another," Face said, "For some reason the east and west coasts seem to have a corner on the market on weird people."

"It's more than that, though," Jean said, "They won't have to go through anymore winters with a foot of snow between them and the porch stairs…also they'll get to see me more than just on national holidays. Though I wish we could get them up here for the 4th of July, it'd be nice to actually shoot off some fireworks for a change."

"Oh yeah, they outlawed that in New York, didn't they?" Face asked.

"Since 1940," Jean nodded, "Really sucks, when I was little we went out of state to where you could buy them, of course we lived out of the city limits so the law couldn't really do anything about us shooting them off, but after that, and the 4th of July without fireworks is just another patriotic holiday like Memorial Day, not much too it other than a moment in the morning when they raise the flag to remember what it's about, and then off to the barbecue."

"You're a little young to be so cynical, don't you think?" Hannibal asked.

"I haven't been young for anything since I joined the Army," she replied, "Anyway, it always seemed like a stupid law to me…I don't even think it's the fire risk that everybody buys into it for, instead they say it's to protect people, from what, their own stupidity? This isn't the 50s, we _know_ now not to put metal buckets over the firecrackers, or to put something that's going to explode in a glass bottle, and we sure as hell know to _run_ when the fuse is lit, so what's the problem?"

"A mystery for the ages," Hannibal said humorously as he bit down on his cigar.

"It'd be just our luck though, we'd have everybody together for Independence Day, Decker would show up in the middle of it…"

"And we'd wind up blowing _him_ up with the rockets," Jean said, "So what's the problem?"

"Well, maybe you can talk them into coming out to _visit_ for the 4th anyway," Hannibal suggested.

"Maybe, I'll have to see," Jean answered as she got up, "I'm going to go see if Murdock needs another set of hands in the cockpit."

She walked up the aisle, pulled back the curtain and went in.

"Hey Murdock, how's it going?" she asked.

Murdock looked back at her and answered, "Everything's tiptop up here, Saint, how's it going back there?"

"Given we don't have to worry about B.A. waking up and killing us, I'd say we're doing just fine," she answered as she sat down beside him.

"Hey," Murdock thought of something, and he turned to her, "I never got around to teaching you how to fly a jet, did I?"

"Not yet," Jean answered as she got herself strapped in, "So far just the choppers."

"Oh well in that case," Murdock started to draw his hands back from the controls.

"No!" Jean half screamed, half laughed at him, "Murdock, if you let go of the controls here, I'm going to beat you to death with my shoe."

"Well nobody wants that," Murdock replied with a small grin, though he did start wondering how hard that would be to murder somebody with a sneaker. Then something else came to his mind, and without taking his eyes off the sky ahead he talked to her, "Jean, not to get out of line, but I've got a question about your folks."

"What's that?" she asked.

"Well I can't help but noticing when we go back to visit them, you don't really talk too much to your father, is there a particular reason for that?"

Jean shrugged, "Maybe some fathers and daughters get each other and really bond, but I don't think we ever really did, always seemed it was just easier to go to my mom for anything, it's basically like a game of telephone tag to talk to him, she relays my messages to him and then relays his messages back to me, that's about it. I guess…uh…I guess I was just always closer to my uncle, he seemed to really get me. And I guess in all your head shrinker's mumbo jumbo, he'd say that because I'm not close with my own father…that that's why I like being around Hannibal so much, he seems to get me, I can talk to him…and I guess that's why when he had his appendix taken out I realized his death would be harder to take than my own father's…his mortality is harder to accept."

"We know the feeling," Murdock replied with a small nod. He leaned forward and looked at her through one eye and asked her, "Well…are we going to tell them about us?"

"I already did," Jean said, "My mom knows we're dating, but she doesn't need to know that we're engaged yet."

"Ah, well then I guess I better take this off," Murdock moved to take the silver band off his finger.

"Murdock!" Jean yelled as the whole plane started to go down.

Murdock got them back up to the proper altitude and said in a 'bad little boy' voice with a smile to match, "Oop, sorry about that."

A minute later, Face entered the cockpit and he asked, "Murdock, what the hell happened?"

"Oh sorry, Face, a kite jumped in front of us and I panicked," Murdock said, feigning innocence.

* * *

Getting reacquainted with Jean's parents at the house had been easy, it was once they got everybody settled in and unpacked that they had to get to the next part of the plan. Jean wanted to surprise her mother by getting dinner cooked for her while she was out of the house on Sunday, but first they needed a distraction to _get_ her out of the house. Since Jean knew Hannibal's cooking well enough to know _not_ to trust him with the job, they decided Face would be the odd man out. And while they figured out exactly what he was going to do, they spent a pleasant Saturday afternoon with Jean's parents, which turned into a nice evening, and then came the matter of the sleeping arrangements. Without B.A. or Amy here with them this time, it wouldn't be near as crowded, but all the same it was decided the men would sleep in the living room, and Jean would sleep in her old room. That's what they told her parents anyway, but late in the night after they'd gone to sleep, Jean had crept down to the living room and bunked with Murdock. This, Hannibal watched with silent amusement from where he lay on the couch. It was obvious just how much these two needed one another.

Early the next morning, Jean and Murdock had sneaked out of the house and gone down to the grocery store to pick up everything they'd need for dinner: a couple of chickens and a few small packages of chicken livers and gizzards, a sack of potatoes, two pounds of raw asparagus, a can of jellied cranberry sauce, and two boxes of stuffing mix. Also while they were there Jean sorted through the variety of orchid corsages in little golden boxes all lined up in a circle on a display. She finally came across one that she thought was good enough for her mother and put that in the cart as well. She started to push the cart but stopped when she came across a large container that kept bouquets in water, they were mostly carnations.

"You alright, Saint?" Murdock asked.

Jean blinked a couple of times and came back to reality, "Yeah…"

Murdock took a quick glance around the store and he told Jean to get beside him by the container.

"How come?" Jean asked.

She saw why, Murdock sneaked one of the white carnations out of its bouquet and stuffed it in the top button hole of his plaid shirt. Then he looked over the bouquets and snatched up a dozen two-toned carnations: dark red and pale yellow, and he all but shoved them into Jean's arms.

"She ought to like these, wouldn't you say?" he asked.

Jean nodded and put them in the cart.

"So," she said, "Have you guys figured out what Face's story is yet?"

"Oh yeah," Murdock said, "It'll be a beaut."

* * *

In the middle of the afternoon, Face came up with a wild story about having to find a certain kind of moisturizer for his skin, something that Murdock joked wasn't that farfetched, and since Jean had been out of New York for the better part of the last couple years, he managed to talk her mother into going with him and helping him find all the stores nearby that might carry it, especially given that it was Sunday and any drugstore that might carry it would be closed for the day. Jean's father had left the house after lunch and wasn't expected back until dinner, so everything seemed perfect so far.

Once they were gone, Hannibal went to find Jean so they could get started on the cooking. He called her but there was no response, he went upstairs and found her sitting on the dresser by the window in her parents' bedroom, and she looked depressed about something.

"Everything alright, kid?" he asked.

She leaned back and looked to the ceiling, "I've been looking around this place, trying to figure out if there's still anything here…anything _worth_ coming back to. This is where I grew up, I knew every inch of this house as a kid, had every stain in the wood memorized, the number of flowers in the wallpaper…the weird designs in the ceiling fan blades that looked like voodoo faces…it's all ancient history now." Her face twitched first on one side and then the other, "There's really nothing here for me anymore…" she shook her head, "This isn't my home anymore."

Hannibal wasn't sure how to respond to that.

"Anymore," Jean added, "This place…being here…it's like I'm a stranger in a strange land, I can remember living here, growing up here, but it just doesn't seem to mean anything anymore."

Hannibal still didn't know how to respond to that, because it wasn't anything he had any experience with. It didn't seem to matter, a moment later Jean seemed to get out of her mood and she got off the dresser and said, "Well, let's see if we can't get dinner cooked without burning the house down."

"Now there's a thought," Hannibal said jokingly.

They joined Murdock in the kitchen and Jean told Hannibal, "You cut up the chicken first, I can't stand that job."

"Why didn't you just get the breasts?" Hannibal asked.

"My mother likes the wings and my dad likes the dark meat," Jean told him, "That's why not."

"Oh, I see."

Jean went over to Murdock and told him, "We can get the potatoes cooking while the chicken's frying, and we can keep all of that warm until they get back, so I guess that ought to give us time to make the cake."

"What cake?" Hannibal asked.

"Oh come now, Colonel," Murdock replied, "You don't think we'd go through all the trouble of making dinner if we weren't planning to make dessert too, do you?"

"Stupid me," Hannibal lightly remarked, "So what're you making?"

Jean rifled around through the cookbooks behind the crock pot and electric mixer and told him, "Got a recipe here…my mother's always been partial to spice cake, you ever had that?"

"A few times I believe," he answered, and crinkled his nose, "Come to think of it, doesn't seem anybody makes that anymore."

"The stores sell some kind of mix for it," she shook her head, "That'll sit on your stomach like a lead weight…Murdock, you get started on the potatoes and I'll get started on this."

"Right," Murdock saluted and went to find some potatoes suitable for mutilating.

"You think we'll be able to get everything done by the time they get back?" Jean asked Hannibal.

Hannibal selected the knife he thought best for the job of dismembering the chickens and said, "If Face is capable of doing anything, you can count on him to lead your mother on a wild goose chase all throughout upper New York State for a face cream that doesn't even exist."

"That's right," Murdock said as he tried carrying 20 potatoes in his arms over to the sink without dropping them, "Everybody knows how vain Faceman is."

"Who're you telling?" Jean asked.

* * *

Jean was running around the house like a chicken with its head cut off, making sure the dining room table was set, everything was in place, everything was ready.

"I feel like James Dean in 'East of Eden'," she told Murdock.

"Hopefully the reception will go over better," he said as he went to the front hall.

"Incidentally," Hannibal spoke up, "_When_ is your mother's birthday?"

Murdock came back from the front door and told Jean, "She's here, I just saw the car pull up."

"Well, might as well do this right," Hannibal said in his usual half-dry sarcastic tone. The three of them lined up by the front door and waited for it to open, and when it did they screamed out, "SURPRISE!"

Only instead of Jean's mother and Face, it was her father, who took a step back at the exclamation but otherwise remained nonchalant as he said, "Louder next time, I'm still here."

Jean sighed, "We thought you were Mom."

He laughed and told her, "You'll have to try a _lot_ harder than that to kill her." He turned back to the door and added, "And here she comes now."

"Okay, so let's try this again," Hannibal said as he went to get the door.

He pulled it open when they heard the screen door open and again they yelled, "SURPRISE!"

Face about jumped a foot back, Jean stormed over and kicked at him to get out of the way, and behind him her mother was just laughing to beat all.

"Happy Mother's Day, Mom!" Jean said as she put her arms around her mother and kissed her on the cheek.

Mrs. Rhodes just laughed and said, "Well thank you, Jean, but what's going on here?"

"Come on into the dining room, we got a surprise for you," Jean told her and pulled her along.

Her mother 'ooh'ed and 'ahh'ed at the dinner laid out for them, and then said to her daughter, in a knowing tone, "I might've known you had something planned."

Jean just shrugged and replied, "That's what I do, I learn from the best."

Everybody sat down and dug into the food. Within half an hour everything had been consumed except the dessert, the reason being they hadn't brought it out yet. Through dinner they'd all talked, about nothing in particular, just a bunch of small talk, but now that the conversation was winding down, Mrs. Rhodes noticed Jean was looking down at the table and seemed to be wringing her hands in her lap.

"Jean, is something wrong?" she asked.

Jean looked up at her mother and answered, "No…nothing's wrong…there's just something that I wanted to bring up with you guys."

"What's that?"

"Uh, well…Murdock and I…we…we…"

Murdock stood up and decided to take the ball out of Jean's court before she said what he thought she was going to say, "We were saying on the trip over, how nice it would be if you guys could come out to visit us sometime over the summer, give you a chance to see the new house, we got plenty of room for everyone."

Her parents looked at each other and seemed to discuss it without a single word. Mrs. Rhodes turned back to her daughter and told her, "Well we appreciate the offer, Jean, but we'll have to think about it, it's a big thing to just pick up and travel cross country."

"Yeah, I know," she replied, "That's why I was trying to figure out how to bring it up."

The two of them got up to bring out the cake, and as they stole a moment away in the semi-privacy of the kitchen, Jean murmured to Murdock, "Nice save, thanks."

"No problem, hon," he replied, "Incidentally, _what_ were you going to tell them?"

Jean choked on a laugh and she told him, "I was going to tell them that we were getting married…isn't that the dumbest thing you ever heard?"

Murdock patted her on the back and said, "Well I don't know about that, you want to talk dumb, you try explaining a 230 pound mudsucker who's scared to get on a plane?"

Jean laughed and just shook her head.

* * *

Hannibal didn't give any indication that he was awake when he heard Jean creeping down to the living room that night. He remained as far as the others knew 'dead to the world', and he knew that Face was the same way except his wasn't an act. He listened as the Captain and the honorary corporal talked quietly amongst themselves, he was able to make out some of the words.

"What's the matter, can't sleep?" Murdock asked.

"Can't sleep _alone_," Jean answered as she crawled into his sleeping bag with him, "Not in that bed up in that room by myself…and I'd offer to sneak you up there except the boards tend to creak, so this will have to do instead."

"Well," Murdock groaned sleepily with a smile, "I'm always up for the company, hey Jean?"

"What?"

"How come you were going to tell your parents about us earlier?" he asked.

"I don't know," she replied, "Just seemed like the right moment for it…boy what an idiot I am."

"Well…" he said as he wrapped an arm around her, "I'm sure the moment will present itself again sometime in the future."

"Preferably when they're already 3,000 miles across the country and we don't have to deal with the long distance of this," she added.

"It'll come, you'll see," Murdock told her.

"Yeah…I know," Jean said cynically, "Let's wait, we'll get married, and we won't tell them until the first kid is 16, that way he can drive them both to the hospital when they hit the floor in a dead faint."

Murdock laughed quietly but hard enough he seemed to shake the whole floor under them.

"We'll get something figured out," he assured her, "Just wait and see."

"Well I hope it's soon," Jean told him, "I don't know that I can stand coming back to this house again."

"How come?" Murdock asked.

"Just too many memories," she answered as she tried burrowing further down into the sleeping bag, "Anymore, it just seems to haunt me."

Murdock nodded lightly and said, "I understand."

After that they got too quiet for Hannibal to hear so he turned his head to the side and went to sleep, knowing that they'd be having to clear out tomorrow morning.

* * *

Hannibal had come back from checking on the jet where they'd left it and saw everybody was gathered outside with their bags and Jean was hugging her parents goodbye.

"I hate to burst everybody's bubble," he told them as he came up to them, "But I saw some people snooping around where we landed the jet, I think they may report it to the local authorities."

"Oh no," Mrs. Rhodes said, "What'll you do now?"

"Well we've got to get back to L.A.," Face said, "I guess that means we find another plane."

Hannibal shook his head, "Since B.A. isn't with us this time, we'll get to the airport and catch the next flight heading out," he looked to Murdock and said, "You don't mind being a passenger for once, do you, Captain?"

"Not at all, Colonel," Murdock shook his head, "I'm looking forward to it, I can buzz one of those cute little stewardesses for a few drinks and look out the window to see if there's a naked man taking the engine apart."

"I knew you'd like the idea," Hannibal said, "Come on, we better get out of here before anybody traces us back to your folks, Jean."

"Alright," she turned and waved to her parents once more and called, "Bye, Mom!"

There was a final exchange of goodbyes and they got in their rental car and headed out to the nearest airport. As they got out of the car, they were stopped by somebody who they guessed worked with airport security.

"You can't park that car here," he told them.

"Well that's fine," Face replied, "Because we're not parking it, we're abandoning it."

They pushed past the man and went in to check what the soonest departing flights were. They lucked out, Hannibal found one that was nonstop to Los Angeles and leaving in 20 minutes. They got their tickets, and their boarding passes, and got on the plane and got seated in business class, and were relieved to find that there weren't a lot of people on the plane.

"So if they do report the plane," Face said to Hannibal, "What do you think the odds are we can expect to meet Decker at the airport?"

"I doubt he'll think that far ahead," Hannibal assured him, "He'll think we trade one scammed plane for another, he wouldn't be smart enough to imagine we come in on a commercial flight with 150 other people."

"Too obvious, eh?" Jean asked.

"Absolutely," Hannibal nodded.

"Are you sure?" the others asked him.

He paused for a moment before answering, "Almost positive."

Everybody fell back in their seats groaning.

"Oh well, even if he _would_ be waiting," Face checked his watch, "He's going to have a long wait ahead of him, unfortunately patience seems to be one of his better qualities."

"Well," Murdock spoke up, "He needs _something_ to compensate for his lack of brains."


	7. Chapter 7

Hannibal had figured flying commercial without B.A. along for the ride for a change, would be a nice way to travel, and it would've been, except almost as soon as they took off, Jean started asking every question imaginable about how long it would take them to get back to L.A., if there were any records about problems with this airline, or this model planes, if anybody died on these flights, etc., and he quickly became grateful that business class on this plane was just about empty otherwise they would've had either an angry mob or an outbreak of mass hysteria on their hands.

"Jean," he finally said, "Will you calm down? Nothing's going to happen on this plane, and you pacing around like a decapitated chicken isn't going to get us to California any faster."

"I can't help it, Hannibal," she replied.

"Jean, you've flown on several jets before, what's so different about this time?" he asked.

Jean pointed to Murdock and explained, "This is the first time I've been on a plane that _he_ hasn't been at the controls. How do we know if we can trust the pilots up front here?"

"Hmmm," now the gears were turning in Murdock's mind as well, "She does have a good point, Colonel, how do we know that the guys flying this plane are fully capable of the job?"

"Murdock," Hannibal said in his warning tone, "Now don't _you_ start, everybody get back in your seats and be quiet, keep it up and you're going to start drawing attention to yourselves _and_ to all of us."

"And I think we can agree that's the last thing we want," Face said.

"Hannibal's right," Murdock told Jean as he escorted her back to her seat, "Let's sit down…we'll have one of the stewardesses bring us some champagne, and just sit back and enjoy the flight."

"I can't enjoy it," she said, "I don't like it."

"Come on, sit down," Murdock said as he gave her a slight shove and about had to sit on her to get her to stay in her seat.

Hannibal leaned over to Face and told him, "If we're going to get through this flight I think we _all_ need some drinks."

Face nodded and pressed the button for the stewardess.

Meanwhile, Jean was just about bouncing up and down in her seat impatiently as she told Murdock, "I don't like it…nope, don't like it at all, I want this flight to be over with, I want to get back on the ground."

"Careful how you say that," Face warned her, "Or we might a lot sooner than planned!"

Murdock put an arm around her and tried to get her to calm down. "Now just take it easy, Jean, you know that flying is actually safer traveling than driving? What was that last statistic, about 900 airplane crashes per year against about 40,000 car crashes on the highways or something like that?"

"Murdock," Jean said, "Don't start, don't start going down the list of all the miniscule things that could go wrong that almost never do because you _know_ when it's a minority only issue, that I'm always it!"

He patted her on the back and murmured to her, "Just calm down, Jean, now listen to me, you heard them, this flight is nonstop, so that right up front tells us they have enough fuel to get us back to California."

"What if one of the engines stops?" Jean asked.

"Then the other three will still work."

"And what if instead of the pilots we've got a couple of Iranian terrorists up in the cockpit?" Jean asked.

"Well I still wouldn't worry much," Murdock told her, "It's a little known fact air terrorists are reluctant to actually _kill_ the people on the planes they're going to blow up, first they have to land somewhere to blow it up, and if you act sick enough they'll actually carry you off the plane beforehand."

"What?" Jean looked at him.

"Oh sure, back in the 70s there were several terrorist attacks where the planes were blown to bits but they got everybody off first, the plan apparently was…"

He put his explanation on hold as he swiped two glasses of champagne off a tray the stewardess was pushing. Jean took both of them and drained one in a single swallow and then drank the other to chase it.

"Something tells me we're going to need a lot of champagne before we even reach the Midwest," Murdock said.

* * *

"You know, Hannibal," Face whispered later on during the flight since Jean and Murdock seemed to have actually fallen asleep and they were all for keeping it that way, "I hate to admit it but now I'm starting to wonder if Jean might be right."

"About what?" Hannibal asked.

"We've flown hundreds of times with Murdock, because we trust him as our pilot, but we don't have any idea who's flying us now, we don't know who's behind that curtain up there," Face pointed out.

"Uh…" Hannibal guessed humorously, "The Wizard of Oz?"

"What if something goes wrong during the flight?" Face asked.

"Like what?" Hannibal asked, "Cold food…a bad in flight movie?"

"Oh come on, Hannibal, you know how man things could possibly go wrong on a plane this size," Face said.

Hannibal chuckled and pointed to Murdock, "Now _you're_ starting to sound like him."

"I guess I never thought about it before," Face said, "But we know Murdock can always fly us anywhere in anything, what do we know about the people working for this airline?"

"Why don't _you_ calm down, Lieutenant?" Hannibal asked, "We've still got another 1700 miles before we land, there'll be plenty of time to worry once we reach the point of no return."

"Don't joke about that," Face replied.

Hannibal looked over to him and inquired, "Something on your mind, Face?"

"It's very weird, I think I'm finally starting to understand how B.A. feels when he flies…only that's when _anybody's_ flying, but _especially_ Murdock…"

"True?"

"And that's how I feel now that Murdock's _not_ the one flying us," Face told him.

Hannibal shrugged and said simply, "Trust is a very complex thing."

Face looked around and caught sight of a lovely young blonde woman seated by herself a few rows down, and he decided to go and get acquainted with her.

"Some cases are _more_ complex than others," Hannibal added to himself as he watched in amusement.

* * *

A few hours later, as the plane neared its final destination, they encountered some bumpy air and everybody was given an unpleasant experience by the flight. By now, Jean and Murdock were wide awake again and Jean was unfortunately sober again so she felt every bump of the turbulence. As everybody bounced up and down in their seats, Jean was just about to go out of her mind once again, and if she'd been limber enough she probably would've pressed her head between her legs, as it was she settled for keeping her head down and her gaze to the floor. Murdock, having lived and flown through worse, tried to comfort her and keep her calm, he patted her back and tried to pull her closer to him in a calming embrace. Face likewise was sitting sideways in his seat hugging the blonde woman he'd been chatting it up with since they passed over Cleveland, they'd also both gotten their nerves a little rattled by the constant bumpy travel.

"How long's it going to be until we land?" Jean asked Murdock as she ran her hand over the top of her head and nervously grabbed a fistful of her own hair.

"Oh, shouldn't be too long now," Murdock told her, "Probably…" he looked over and out the window, "Another 20 minutes."

"Yeah well I wish we were already out of this plane and back on the ground," Jean said.

"We will soon enough," Murdock replied.

After a while the turbulence stopped and the trip became calm again, just in time for them to touch down.

"Remind me never to use this airline again," Jean said as they got off the plane.

Face pocketed the phone number he'd gotten from the blonde woman and said, "I don't know, I think it could be good to keep in mind for future travel."

"You would," Jean replied.

"So now what, Colonel?" Murdock asked as they got their bags and exited the airport.

Hannibal checked his watch and said, "Unless anybody else has a different idea, I say we take in a little down time, the jet lag ought to be hitting soon enough as it is."

"Sounds good to me," Murdock said with a small yawn, "Those passenger flights always take a lot out of me."

Hannibal kept to himself the comment that while Jean had been knocked out on champagne, Murdock had stayed awake for a while, and as back at the V.A. he would mimic playing his arcade games even when the machines were shut off or out of order, he mimicked having his own invisible set of controls at his seat and pantomimed flying the plane from the backseat so to speak. If he couldn't settle for the real thing he could at least keep in practice for it.

* * *

Murdock exited the bathroom dressed in his pajamas for the night, and went into the bedroom only to find that Jean wasn't there and the bed hadn't been unmade for the night yet. Murdock turned around and went downstairs to see what could be keeping her, and he found out the reason was she'd fallen asleep in the recliner in the living room. He went over to Jean and woke her up, or tried to anyway.

"Come on, Jean, wake up."

"Hmmmm…"

He tapped her cheek, "Come on, Jean."

"What is it?" she asked as she turned to the side, but wouldn't open her eyes.

"You've got to wake up."

"What for?"

"To go to bed."

Jean let out another tired groan and stayed where she was. Murdock grabbed her by the arm and pulled her out of the chair and to her feet, that opened her eyes but it was obvious she wasn't fully awake just yet. Just as well, he thought as he got behind her and marched her up the stairs, should be easier for her to fall all the way back to sleep once they got to bed. Once they got back to the bedroom, Murdock sat Jean down on her trunk while he pulled the covers down on the bed, then he pulled her up again and walked her around to the bed and helped her get settled in it and pulled the covers up on her side. Then he went around the bed and got in on his own side.

"Goodnight, Jean," he said.

"Mm-hmm," she groggily replied.

Murdock had figured it would be a short, restful night, but he'd found out soon enough that he was wrong. He didn't know what had woken him up but he was awake a split second just before Jean shot up in bed screaming. He grabbed her and pinned her arms down at her sides so she couldn't lash out and hurt someone. Almost as quickly and unexpectedly as it had happened, it stopped and Jean was wide awake and gasping to catch her breath.

"Jean, what happened, what's the matter?" Murdock asked.

Jean tried pushing away from him, but he just pulled her closer to him, and he noticed how cold she felt, and initially he flashed back to his own nightmare previously, the freezer! He looked around to see if they'd left the window open, they had, only a few inches but apparently they'd gotten an unexpected cold front tonight. Murdock closed the window and then gently pushed Jean back down on the bed where it was warm and covered both of them up. Jean was still cold so he got up again, dug around in the closet until he found an extra blanket and wrapped it around both of them and he held her close against him as she drifted off back to sleep.

She went quickly and easily, now Murdock was awake, and he still took notice of how cold she was. And in his mind it all made sense, Jean had gotten cold from the breeze and deep in her subconscious, she must've thought she was back in the freezer at that old butcher shop. Well, it had taken a while, but it seemed that the post-trauma he'd long been expecting, was finally starting to rear its ugly head. Out of everybody on the Team, he knew the most about psychiatric and psychological disorders and how they were dealt with, and he hoped whatever was happening now, he'd be able to help Jean through it. He'd already been considering paying Dr. Richter a visit soon, but now he was starting to decide it might be a better idea to make a non-social call on his doctor, and sooner than expected.

* * *

The next morning, Jean seemed to have no memory of her little outburst the night before, Murdock watched her through the day to see if she acted a little 'off', but as far as he could tell, she was as normal as she would ever be. Then the next night passed and she slept clear through, and the following day was more of the same. By the third day he decided that for now, Jean was fine, but all the same something had been weighing heavily on his own mind that he made an emergency trip out to the V.A. and stormed all the way down to Dr. Richter's office and pushed his way in, screaming for his psychiatrist.

"Doctor Richter! Doctor Richter! I need to talk to you!" he said as he grabbed the man's coat.

Dr. Richter was taken aback by this but all the same he kept his professional demeanor as he subtly pried Murdock's hands off his coat.

"Murdock, what's the matter?" he asked.

"Dr. Richter!" Murdock groaned as he buried his face in the doctor's shoulder, "I did a horrible thing, I did a very-very-very-very-very-very bad thing! I can't stand to live with myself!"

Dr. Richter patted Murdock on the back comfortingly and spoke softly to him, "Take it easy, Murdock, it can't be as bad as all that."

"Worse!" Murdock insisted.

"Come sit down, Murdock, and tell me what you did that's so awful."

"I don't deserve to sit down," Murdock frowned as he let the doctor walk him over towards the exam table in the middle of the room.

"Murdock, _what_ did you do that's so terrible?" Dr. Richter inquired.

Murdock turned around to face his doctor and told him, "I married a girl and I didn't love her…oh I'm so _ashamed_ of myself! I'm not fit to eat with pigs!" Murdock threw himself into a whole histrionic episode, ending with him throwing himself down on the table and ripping the sanitary paper laid out on it and kicking his legs wildly.

Dr. Richter had been Murdock's leading psychiatrist long enough that this didn't faze him in the least. He went around to the other side of the table to look at Murdock and asked him, "You're talking about Jean Rhodes, aren't you?"

Murdock groaned and nodded, further hiding his face in the paper, "I did, and I didn't…"

He felt Richter's hand on his back, and he heard the doctor say to him, "One thing at a time, Murdock, now explain what you mean."

Murdock sighed and told him, "This has been on my mind ever since we got married…it was an act, it was _all_ a sham, we only said we were planning to get married so I could get released…we got married that night, we weren't in love with each other, not _yet_ anyway…that came later…and it doesn't matter much now anyway because we got it annulled…but I still feel guilty because I married that girl when I didn't love her."

Dr. Richter didn't move from where he stood, and his face remained impossible to read, in 10 years' time Murdock had never learned that little trick, and now that he'd said his piece, he waited for what the doctor had to say to him.

"So _when_ did it happen, Murdock?" he asked.

"What?" the pilot looked up at him.

"If you weren't in love _when_ you got married, then when _did_ it happen?"

"I…I don't know," Murdock said.

"Well, when did you first realize that you loved her?"

"I…" he shook his head, "I can't answer that either."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't know…I mean when we got married, I tried to take my role as her husband seriously even though I knew it wasn't real…you know, Doc, I didn't even _tell_ her I loved her until the morning after we got married…that's a pretty lousy thing to do, isn't it?"

"Did you mean it?"

He thought about it and slowly nodded, "Yeah, I did…so I guess _that's_ when I knew."

"And do you know for certain that she felt the same way when you got married?"

"Well yeah, it was her idea," Murdock said, "And what sense would it make if she acted like she didn't love me but she did?"

Dr. Richter seemed to consider this question and he answered with one of his own, "Well, is it possible, Murdock, that she wasn't forthcoming with you because she was afraid of being rejected?"

"Jean? Afraid of something like that?" Murdock asked, "You really don't know her too well, do you Doctor?"

The doctor just shrugged in response and said, "Well, it's a theory anyway…alright, so when did you know that she was in love with _you_?"

"It's hard to say…things happened so quickly after we got married, the morning after I had to leave her for 3 days…about a week after the wedding I got sick, and that was the first that I remember seeing her actually worried about me…she was willing to risk her own life to make sure I was alright…seemed to me it went above and beyond just being a Good Samaritan." Of course he left a lot of details out of that, like the reason Jean put everything on the line was because she was threatening to blow Decker's brains out if he took a step towards Murdock at that time, but all the same he felt confident that Dr. Richter was seeing the bigger picture here.

Richter nodded and said, "Alright Murdock, now I have another question for you…do you think it's possible that the two of you _knew_ beforehand that you were in love and just wouldn't admit to it?"

"Well I…" he tried to think back, but he wasn't sure if there could be truth to that or not, "I don't know."

Dr. Richter took that opportunity to point out, "It was a large risk she took when the nurses found her here…a lot could've gone wrong and she could've gotten into a lot of trouble for you."

"You mean _because_ of me?" Murdock asked.

The psychiatrist avoided answering that question, and added only, "You've never been married before, correct, Murdock? Has she?"

"No, neither of us had been married before," he answered.

"Well, then this was a new experience for both of you, wasn't it?"

"Yes…"

The doctor looked at Murdock and nodded and said, "People like us know how hard it is to change when certain things do, it's something that a lot of people have trouble facing…and a lot of them can't cope with the change."

Murdock tried reading into what he was saying, and he took a wild stab in the dark, "So you think subconsciously it happened the way it did because we were both looking for a way out instead of adapting to being married?"

"It's certainly one theory anyway, and how about now?" Dr. Richter asked him, "How are you two getting along now?"

"Well we're engaged to be married again," Murdock told him, "After what happened last time I intend to get it right this time."

Dr. Richter nodded slowly and pointed out, "Now that you two have come to terms with your relationship."

"Oh we did that a long time ago," Murdock said, "Now…"

"Now what, Murdock?" Dr. Richter inquired.

"I'm ready to get married again, but Jean's kind of dragging her feet on it."

"And why do you think she's doing that?"

Murdock always liked Dr. Richter, but he always wished psychiatrists would get a new line of questions instead of always asking him what he thought or how he felt about something.

"Well it's understandable, she's younger than I am, she hasn't lived as long so she's probably _not_ looking forward to getting 'settled' or having a family yet, and besides, she's just recently told her folks about us, she didn't tell them that we were already married, she wants to ease them into the fact that we're already engaged now."

There was more but Murdock had decided that no matter what the doctor asked, he wouldn't tell him about it. How could he explain that another reason Jean might be hesitant to marry him could be because possibly she was now having hostile feelings towards him that she didn't have before, going back to the night the Viet-Cong soldiers about killed her? He had expected it, it was only natural, he knew that the post-traumatic stress would rear its ugly head sooner or later and now it seemed to be coming out now. He almost felt sure, that when Jean woke up screaming the other night, it wasn't just in mere memory of almost freezing to death, but in knowing that they, _he_, wasn't there and wouldn't come. And if that's what she was thinking now, he couldn't blame her, he had seen it coming, but just because he had didn't make dealing with it now any easier.

He could hear Dr. Richter talking to him, calling his name, but he wouldn't look at him, and then Murdock realized it _wasn't_ Dr. Richter calling him, it was Jean. Murdock opened his eyes and turned around and saw Jean standing in the doorway.

"Everything alright, Murdock?" she asked.

"Uh…" Murdock turned back to Dr. Richter for an answer.

"I think everything's fine here," Dr. Richter said, and addressing Murdock, "You can go now, H.M."

Murdock nodded and climbed off the table, "Thanks, Doc, I really enjoyed our little talk."

* * *

Jean's nightmares came back shortly afterwards, and now they happened on almost a nightly basis, after the first few nights Jean started falling out of bed when she woke up screaming. But through it all, she never told Murdock what it was about, and tried to act like she didn't remember, but he knew better. He knew that if Jean didn't want to talk about it, he couldn't force her to, and he wasn't sure if his presence made the situation worse or better, but he stayed because he knew better than the others what she was going through, or thought he did anyway.

He'd managed to keep the others in the dark about what was going on as long as was possible. But one weekend when Hannibal was staying with them, he happened to walk past their bedroom early in the morning and saw Murdock laying in bed and Jean laying on the floor, and he couldn't resist poking his head in.

"Uh, excuse me," Hannibal said, getting both their attentions, "But is this a religious thing, or a sex thing?"

Jean said only, "I've been falling out of bed a lot."

"Ah," Hannibal replied, "So this would fall under…religion?"

"Nightmares," Murdock finally answered.

"Oh," Hannibal nodded, "Say no more," and he pulled away from the door and headed down the hall.

Jean spent the next few nights sleeping on the floor with a pillow and a blanket, while Murdock stayed up in the bed and watched her during the night. Surprisingly she didn't seem to have any nightmares during this time, or if she did it wasn't noticeable, but Murdock started to realize, that it was probably because of the distance between them. If she subconsciously held him responsible for what happened to her, she probably _would_ sleep better being away from him. He knew he couldn't bring it up with her because it wasn't anything she was doing consciously, but it still bothered him and reluctantly, he turned over and went to sleep alone in the bed.

* * *

A few days later, Jean paid Hannibal a visit at his house when she managed to get away from Murdock for a while. She stormed into his bedroom and told the Colonel, "Hannibal, you've gotta do something about Murdock."

"What's he done now?" Hannibal asked.

"I don't know what's the matter with him, but he's just acting weirder than usual," she told him.

"Well," he replied, "I think I might now why. A few days ago he talked to me about something that was bugging him and I'll _just_ bet you it's probably what's going on now."

"Well what is it?" Jean wanted to know.

"Well, the long and short of it is that Murdock knows you've been having a lot of nightmares lately, and that you won't tell anyone what they're about, and he thinks that it goes back to the Viet-Cong and the freezer."

"What?" Jean looked completely clueless.

"He thinks that you resent him not being there to get you out sooner," Hannibal said, and shook his head, "I tried explaining to him that you knew better than that, but you know how Murdock is when he gets something in his head."

"That's crazy," Jean said, "_Why_ would he think that?"

Hannibal told her as he dug a cigar out of his pocket, "He got scared too, Jean, he almost lost you…I know that you had plenty of your own to go through at that time, but you didn't see him when we pulled you out of that walk-in icebox. And he knew what we all know, _nobody_ walks away from the Viet-Cong undamaged, there's always something that will remain, and fester, and come out at a later point in time. And he's been watching you, waiting for it to happen. Maybe _you_ don't blame him for what happened…but I think he blames himself, subconsciously, even though he knows what we all know, that there wasn't any way it could've been prevented. I think he just got so scared that you almost died that he's deemed himself responsible for it."

"Well that's just _ridiculous_," Jean told him.

"Well you know it and I know it, but Jean, if it wasn't that, _what_ has been going on that you can't talk to Murdock about?" Hannibal asked.

"You'll think it's stupid," she said, "I keep having nightmares about all of you guys up in a chopper, Murdock at the controls of course, something goes wrong, he loses control and the whole bird goes down and crashes. Now I can't very well tell him that, because he might think I'm starting to doubt his abilities as a pilot, and I don't, I don't know _why_ I'm having these nightmares all of a sudden, but I am, and if it's not a chopper, it's a plane, it's a Boeing, something big and awkward…there was one dream where the whole jet ripped into two pieces and we all fell out 20,000 feet above ground, that's when I started sleeping on the floor, suddenly the bed got to be too high up for my comfort."

"Well I can certainly understand why you'd wake up screaming, but Jean you've got to tell him so he'll stop worrying," Hannibal said.

"Yeah well…_you_ still have to talk to him too," Jean told him.

"Why me?" Hannibal wanted to know.

"Knowing what I do now makes some of the things Murdock's done lately make sense…but he's still acting crazy, he won't even let me clean out the big chest freezer in the back pantry when I defrost it," Jean said.

"Hmm," Hannibal thought about it, "I've seen you clean that freezer, and I can understand why he'd be worried, one wrong move and you'd fall clear in," he laughed.

"Well I didn't think it was _that_ funny," Jean said as she watched Hannibal about fall back from laughter.

"Oh it wasn't that, I was just thinking watching you two try to get anything out of that chest, reminds me of Fatty Arbuckle's old shorts when I was a kid, used to put on a fur coat just to get chops out of the freezer," Hannibal started to compose himself again, "Hollywood sure has gone down the drain pipes sometime in the past several years."

"Hey," Jean said, "If we ever get fed up with being the background in movies, we could always try making one of our own again."

"True," Hannibal remarked, "And do it better this time."

"After that last film Murdock shot?" Jean shook her head, "I don't see how we could do any worse."


	8. Chapter 8

Before Jean left Hannibal's bedroom, she turned around and said to him, "You said something about me having nightmares about being back in that freezer…you're right I have them, and you're damn right I think about that night."

"I had figured," Hannibal replied.

"I don't blame anybody for what happened," Jean told him, "It _just_ happened…they lost your trail, so they came for me, and you were too far away to do anything about it, that's just the way it was, I knew that when it happened…yeah, I'm still mad that it happened, but there's nothing that could change it. And yeah I have nightmares about it, a _lot_," she shook her head, "But not like this…I don't know if you can understand what I'm trying to say, Hannibal, but those nightmares are what I would call 'normal'…you just have them, you don't wake up screaming, you don't wake up and think you're still there like in 'Nam, you just have them and then you wake up the next morning and everything's right with the world again. You know what I mean?"

Hannibal nodded, "Like most nightmares people have, nothing outlandish, nothing that triggers a flashback."

Jean nodded, "Maybe that's a sign that something's wrong, maybe they should affect me more than they do, but they don't…maybe I'm just so burnt out on everything that's happened that I just don't care about anything anymore. Sometimes when I have them, I'm even _aware_ that it's a nightmare…but when that happens, you try to wake up and end it, and you can't, your only solace is in knowing that it's a dream and that sooner or later it's going to come to an end."

Hannibal bit the corner of his lip and said to her, "You need to talk to Murdock."

She nodded slowly, "I will."

Hannibal noticed that she wasn't making any effort to move towards the door and he asked her, "Need a push?"

"I'm going," she told him, and disappeared out the door.

* * *

Murdock and Jean sat opposite each other in her bedroom, him on a chair by the bed, and her sprawled lengthwise over the short side of the bed, her ankles crossed, her arms folded to her chest, and an inquisitive look on her face, anticipating the other shoe dropping.

"So," she finally said, breaking the silence, "There you have it…my nightmares aren't about being locked in that freezer, but I don't know what to make of what they are."

"How long?" Murdock asked her, "How long has this been happening?"

"It happened a couple of times before we got on that plane coming back," Jean said, "But they really got worse once we were home."

Murdock scratched his head as he got up from his chair and turned and shifted his weight down on the mattress as he sat down beside her.

"It might be something else," he told her, "Something subconscious."

"Like what?" she asked.

"Well let's face it, darling, if I'm grounded then that limits where all I'd be able to go without you."

"Oh come on, Murdock…"

"No I mean it," he said, "You'd never flat out say that you don't want me to go, and consciously I doubt you'd even think of it, but the subconscious is going to think of all the things you don't think you think about."

Jean looked at him with one eye half open and she told him, "Say that three times fast."

Murdock smiled at her but responded, "I'm serious, Jean."

Jean uncrossed her ankles and dragged one foot back and forth across the bedspread, "I refuse to admit to anything on a conscious level…but subconsciously perhaps…" she couldn't bring herself to finish her sentence and she looked down at the bedspread.

Murdock reached over and grabbed her by the waist and pulled her over towards him, "Well I'm back now…I don't know for how long but we can at least enjoy whatever time we've got together."

Jean nodded slowly, as if she wasn't fully convinced, and turned to the side and put her arms around him in return, "This is going to be one hell of a complicated life together…but I suppose we've both come through worse, though I suspect we'll have a lot more 'worse' to go through as well."

Murdock closed his eyes tight against that thought, he remembered pulling her icy corpse out of the freezer last December and he didn't want to consider what 'worse' they could have ahead of them to face.

* * *

Outside it was pouring down rain and inside the motel room, B.A. and Jean were waiting on word from Hannibal and the others and all nerves were on end. Two days ago Hannibal had had the idea that they split up so if anybody got caught by Decker's men, the rest wouldn't have to be dragged along for the ride. So, Face stayed behind in Arizona with Hannibal, Murdock and Amy took her car and got the hell out of Dodge, as did the two of them. B.A. had called Hannibal at the number the Colonel had left with the Sergeant, and given him the number of the motel room they were staying in so Hannibal could reach them when the time was right, and for the last two days they'd waited in the small room by the phone waiting for word from their fearless leader.

Out of the blue, Hannibal announced that they ought to pay their old client Daniel Running Bear a visit to see how things were going since they'd last seen him. Since Jean had still been living in New York when they made that trip, Murdock took it upon himself to fill her in on all the details before they even got out of the state. And once they got back out there, and around those horses again, Murdock seemed to slip back into something resembling his Range Rider persona again and made himself very well acquainted with all the local horses.

Jean had called on Daniel's assistance previously in her appeal to the President for a pardon for the Team, but until now the two had never seen each other face to face. She came away from their meeting with the impression that she liked this guy, but otherwise didn't make much effort to be sociable.

Murdock had managed to track down his horse from last time, Ed, oddly enough the horse seemed to remember him as well. Murdock mounted him to go for a ride and offered to take Jean with him, but she refused, insisting she didn't want anything to do with the animals. Hannibal had taken that as a cue to remark, "Not a lot of westerns made anymore, are there?"

Jean glared back at him and replied, "Those guys usually did their own stunt work anyway."

The day got off to a good start but sometime during the afternoon, things went sour. While Murdock was out riding, he thought he heard gunshots, and right offhand he couldn't see anyone but he decided to find the others and see what was going on. As he made it back to the others he saw a fight had broken out with some unexpected and no doubt uninvited guests. In a scramble for one of the bad guys' guns Jean had gotten right in the path of the stampeding horse, she jumped to the side just before it could trample her to death, and in one of those moments that has to be seen to be believed, in the split second it took for the horse to pass, Murdock reached out with one hand, grabbed Jean's hand and pulled her up right behind him on the horse. More gunshots rang out and Jean turned her head and told Murdock, "Somebody around here's taking Cowboys and Indians too far, they're chasing us on horseback too."

"Who is it!?" Murdock asked.

"Beats the hell out of me!" Jean told him.

She looked back again and slowly shifted her full weight over to the right side of the saddle and in one swift movement threw herself off the horse. She hit the ground just two seconds before the other horses came rampaging through, and she just narrowly avoided being stomped to death by every single one that raced past her. Hannibal and Face came running over to see if she was alright, Jean stood up and told Hannibal knowingly, "They don't make _many_ westerns anymore Hannibal but they do still make _some_ of them."

"Come on, Murdock's going to need our help!" Face told Hannibal.

"That remains to be proven," Jean replied unenthusiastically as she followed after them.

They were in for a surprise. They didn't know _how_ the Captain did it, but by the time they caught up with Murdock, they found that he seemed to have things pretty well under control. Somehow, the four men who had been chasing him on horseback had come to fall off of their horses and hit the ground hard. One seemed to have broken his leg, two seemed to have wrenched their backs, and the fourth Murdock had snared in a lasso and was having a little fun with.

"Let me see," Murdock said with some of his Texan drawl coming through, "Do I wanna hogtie ya? Or…do I wanna hang ya?" He shrugged and said, "They both have their advantages."

"You alright, Captain?" Hannibal asked.

"Right as a rain dance, Colonel," Murdock replied, he looked to Jean and asked her, "You alright, hon?"

"Fine," she answered.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Face asked.

Jean turned to him and said bluntly, "First rule of horses, they run faster with 1 person on their back than they can with 2, and when you got people shooting at you, fast is a necessity."

Unfortunately Hannibal didn't get a chance to grill their guests and find out what they were doing there, because shortly after that, they heard the sirens approaching and decided to cut their own visit short. Hannibal wasn't satisfied though and made it clear he was going to stay on in Arizona and see what was going on, he told the others to get back to California and await his further instructions. Face agreed to stay on with him, so it left everybody else to scramble out.

And now, they'd spent the last two days stuck in this motel room with the rain pouring outside and no word from anybody yet.

Jean sat in a chair near the TV and picked at her nails even though she'd already cut them down to nothing and they couldn't store dirt under them _or_ pick at much of anything. She had plenty of questions going around in her mind about what was going on, but she knew she didn't dare ask any of them because she knew B.A. wouldn't want to hear them. He already wasn't a talker by nature and Jean opted to say nothing instead of maybe saying the wrong thing, and the silence made their stay seem all the longer.

Finally, Jean couldn't take the silence any longer and she asked B.A., "You think we should call Hannibal again and see if there's any update?"

B.A. shook his head, "Naw, don't matter that we got his number, what matters if he got ours, _we_ stay here, he' gonna move on somewhere else when he thinks time's right. Might not even be there now, or maybe Decker found it instead."

"We got no way of talking to Amy _or_ Murdock," Jean reminded him, "They left before we did and we don't know where they are."

"I know," B.A. replied, and while ordinarily the idea of having no contact with Murdock would thrill him, this time he just wasn't in the mood, the quiet was getting to be too much.

"You think Hannibal knows what he's doing?" she asked.

B.A. thought about it for a minute and answered, "Nope, I doubt half the time that he ever does."

"Ah, just playing it by ear," Jean replied with a small smile, and bobbed her head to the side a couple times.

"That's Hannibal," B.A. confirmed.

"Long as his plans work, who's to say anything about it?" she asked.

B.A. heard the gurgling, grumbling sound that Jean was trying to ignore. He looked at the clock and saw it was going on 8 o' clock at night.

"Guess I'll go and pick up something for dinner," he said as he headed towards the door, "You coming?"

"I'll stay here and keep an eye out," Jean told him as she reached into her pocket and pulled out a gun, "Murdock and I already went over this routine once, time you guys thought we'd been killed in the fire. Only I was sick then so I stayed in the bathroom so if anybody came in, they'd think the room was empty, then the surprise would _really_ be on them."

B.A. noticed that she seemed weirder than usual when she talked now, and he asked her, "You gonna be alright till I get back?"

"Yeah, sure, fine," Jean replied in a tired voice.

The Sergeant made a mental note to get back here as fast as he could, he didn't trust her being alone for some reason.

* * *

When B.A. came back with two pizzas for dinner, he found Jean had crawled onto the bed sometime when he was gone and fallen asleep. At first he was worried and had to check to make sure she was still breathing, and let out a large sigh of relief when she was. He took notice of the way she had sprawled out on the bed in her sleep and he didn't like it, it took him back to how she looked on that operating table when the doctors were digging the bullets out of her and patching her up again.

He hadn't said anything at the time, he'd been with the others when they saw Jean take that header right off the horse and into the line of fire, he'd seen her _fall_ off and his initial thought had been that she'd been shot by one of the men chasing them.

He hoped that for as long as Jean lived, she never had to go through what he did standing by in that operating room watching as she bled out and had to be put back together again by those doctors. It was something he'd already seen too much of in Vietnam, seen too many young men who had been wounded similarly, and they never made it. It turned his stomach to think of how much blood had been spilt back there, and how much of it hadn't even been necessary; and likewise it turned his gut again here and now when he remembered Jean bleeding to death, begging him to stay with her until she finally died. He also cringed when he thought back to how inhumanely pale she had been when they'd brought her out of surgery, she didn't even look real she was so pale. And then, he also remembered, those eyes, those eyes staring wide up at him; for as much morphine as they had her on she shouldn't have been able to wake up, let alone to speak as coherently as she did just a few short hours after the surgery. And yet she had. But how coherently? After all she _had_ said that she saw Billy in the room…but then again he'd actually gone along with that so what did it say about him either?

Jean turned over onto her side and groaned as she started to wake up. She saw B.A. and rolled off the bed and asked him, "The rain letting up yet?"

"Nope," he answered, "Hannibal call?"

Jean shook her head, "I've been here the whole time and that phone never rang once."

"How long you been asleep?" he asked.

"Doesn't matter," Jean said as she fumbled around for the clock, "I never sleep through the phone ringing…" she found the clock and said, "15 minutes, that's how long. B.A., what if he doesn't call? How long are we going to wait here?"

"Just gotta be patient, mama, he'll get hold of us soon," B.A. told her.

"I wish he would," Jean replied, "I'm going stir crazy in this joint. Though for the life of me I still can't figure out what was going on back there."

"Me either," B.A. said as he looked to the window and watched the rain continue to pour down.

* * *

The next morning, B.A. had been in the bathroom getting dressed when out in the bedroom he could hear a loud bone popping sound, followed by Jean letting out a long moaning scream. He opened the door and found her rolling from one side to the other on the floor, trying to get off of her back.

"What happened?" he asked as he knelt down beside her.

"I think I hurt something I might need later," Jean said as she managed to roll over onto her side. She sucked in a groaning breath and told him, "To be a good stuntman you have to know when to make your body tense _and_ when to make it loose, and in order to be _loose_, you have to be limber to some degree, I was doing some exercises that are supposed to _help_ keep you limber but I think they do as much damage to my back as my actual work." She tried to move but just wound up falling on her back again, she sighed in frustration and told him, "You're supposed to do this stuff every day, but I have a tendency to forget." She groaned again and managed to move onto her stomach.

"Can you move?" B.A. asked.

"Oh yeah," she groaned as she pushed up onto her hands and started to crawl along the floor, "My spine just decided it didn't want to move to the right for a moment."

She managed to jump off her knees and onto her feet so she was still hunched over on all fours, B.A. helped her up and watched her take a couple of steps before she regained her balance.

"You alright?" he asked her.

"Yeah, yeah," she answered as she felt her back, "Just out of practice for this stuff, I'll tell you, I don't know how Hannibal does all the stuff he does, you'd think a man his age was too old to be jumping out of helicopters and onto trains, off of cruise ships, all that stuff…" She groaned as she moved a certain way, "I'll bet you Allen Pomeroy never had to go through any of this."

"Who?" B.A. asked.

"He was a very famous stunt driver in the 40s and 50s, flipped cars in movies for 15 years," Jean told him, "Always worked with another stunt driver…I forget his name though…"

There was a knock at the door and they both reached for their guns, but the door opened and Murdock came in, "Hi guys! Did you miss us?"

Jean breathed heavily as she put her gun away, "Where'd you come from?"

Hannibal stepped in behind him and asked, "Didn't you ever have that talk with your mother?"

"Weren't you going to call?" Jean asked him.

Hannibal shrugged feigning innocence and said, "Well you know how things are with MCI these days, so I thought it'd make more sense to just come over."

"You have us waiting around here for two days staying by that phone expecting you to call," Jean said, "And then you just flat out come here instead?"

"Pretty much," Hannibal said as he moved over towards B.A.

"Oh you really are unbelievable, you know that?" Jean asked as she followed behind him, "You couldn't have just _told_ us that you'd be here in three days?"

Hannibal turned to her and asked, "Well where the fun be in that?"

Jean half turned away from him, and then turned back and sent her fist flying towards his face. Hannibal, quicker than expected as always, stepped off to the side and instead Jean's fist collided with B.A.'s face, and acting on a pure reflex he clamped his massive hand down on her wrist and everybody watched in shock and awe to see what would happen next. Then everything just froze. B.A. realized what he'd done and he let go of her hand, Jean pulled back and said calmly, "Well, now we're even."

"Well," Face said to them, "Just wait till you hear what we found out."

"I'll bite, what?" she asked.

"You ever notice how when we go up against the guys muscling in on our clients, they're not even the real problem? There's always a higher power at work, somebody else pulling the strings and pushing the buttons on the whole show?" Murdock asked.

"You mean those guys on the horses were all lackeys?" Jean asked.

"Worse," Face told her, "Actors."

"What!?" Jean and B.A. asked.

"It turns out these guys had been put up for their little performance based on the understanding that it _was_ a performance and nothing more," Hannibal explained, "Apparently somebody thought it'd be a real hoot to scare Daniel and his friends half to death by making them think they were under attack."

"Oh!" Jean brought her hand up to her forehead and shook her head as she remembered what happened to the men when they fell off their horses.

"So who put them up to it?" B.A. asked.

"Somebody who wants our friend Mr. Running Bear off of his own property," Hannibal said, "We managed to come back after the MPs left, around that time Daniel found a piece of the land that had been dug up and put back, so we did some digging and found 15 gold bars buried there."

"An act!" Jean said in disbelief, and to Murdock she added, "Well, at least these bad guys are starting to get a little more creative I suppose."

"Yeah, I feel bad for the actors though," Murdock said, "They're going to be in recovery for a long time."

"Nothing any true actor isn't willing to sacrifice for their art," Hannibal replied cynically.

"But everything's alright up there now?" Jean asked.

"Oh sure, we rounded up the brains behind the whole outfit, alerted the local authorities and the gold was recovered and I expect sent back to wherever it was stolen from."

Jean thought to ask, "Where _do_ they keep gold bars these days?"

"Where's Amy?" B.A. asked.

"She went back to L.A.," Hannibal answered, "And I'd suggest we do the same before somebody reports seeing us here."

"Why would they?" B.A. asked, "Ain't anything going on."

"B.A.," Jean told him as they left the motel room, "Your van couldn't be anymore obvious if you tied Columbo's funny little car _and_ a canoe to the roof of it."

* * *

"Well, no offense to Daniel, but I'm glad to be home again," Face said with a stretch and yawn as they made themselves at home back at the house.

"After the runaround we've been giving Decker this past week, I'm inclined to agree," Hannibal said.

"Hey Hannibal," Face thought of something, "What do you think the chances are Decker could find us here?"

"Oh I don't know…this house has Murdock's father's name on the title and the deed, nobody knows if he's actually still alive, but there's got to be more than one Murdock family in this city. In any case, Murdock already has a place to stay, with Jean, so I doubt Decker would think Murdock's big headed enough to have _two_ homes, so I'd say it's probably a safe bet we'll be safe where we are."

"For how long?" Face asked.

"That part I'm not sure of," Hannibal answered, and laughed as he watched Face groan, "Hey Face, see if Murdock's brought the rest of the stuff in yet."

"Alright," Face disappeared down the stairs, and returned a minute later.

"What'd he say?" Hannibal asked.

"Nothing."

"Why not?"

Face nodded towards the stairs, "You gotta see this."

Hannibal didn't get it, but he followed Face down the stairs and into the living room and stopped in the entranceway. Murdock and Jean were crammed together asleep on the couch, and it looked like nothing short of a volcano erupting in the near vicinity was going to wake them up anytime soon.

"Well," Hannibal said with a shrug, "It's an improvement."

"Over what?" Face asked him.

"Personal joke," was his only response. He looked in on the two and couldn't help noticing that Murdock seemed to have a small smile on his face. An improvement _indeed_, he was sure.

* * *

Hannibal stepped into the house and pulled the curtains open to let the pending sunshine in. He moved to the foot of the stairs and was about to call up for Jean when he remembered the last time he did this and decided to check the downstairs first. He poked his head in the living room and saw Jean had fallen asleep on the couch.

"Come on, kid," he said as he grabbed her arm and pulled her up, "Time to get up."

Jean grumbled and told him, "I'm not working today."

"Oh yes you are," he replied, "Don't you remember? Today's the day we're all going to go down to B.A.'s daycare center and help out since he's shorthanded today."

"I don't want to go," Jean told him.

Hannibal got her to her feet and remarked, "You already said you would, you can't back out now."

"Hannibal, keep something in mind, I'm an only child and have had no direct contact with kids for 4 years, now you want me to go down to a place where there's going to be 30 10-year-olds running around all day? What the hell am I going to do with them?"

"Oh I'm sure something will come to you," Hannibal told her as he pushed her out the door, "Now come on, we're going to be late."

Jean stopped a step and asked him, "Is Amy coming too?"

"Why do you ask?" he wanted to know.

Jean got a coy smirk on her face as she answered, "I've got an idea."

"Sorry kid, I don't think she'll be joining us," Hannibal said.

"Oh well, then I'll just have to borrow something from her to use for the day," Jean replied.

"I probably don't want to know, do I?" Hannibal asked.

"Nope, probably not," Jean answered.


	9. Chapter 9

If anything could be said for the day, it was that it definitely _wasn't_ boring. That was probably a given anytime when you get 5 adults in an enclosed area with 40 kids but it was especially true today. Everybody had selected a bunch of the kids for something different. B.A. and Hannibal took some of the older kids and refereed a football game between them outside. Murdock took some of the younger kids and decided to give them a hands on lesson in interpretative art, whatever the hell that meant, from what the others could see it consisted of dipping your hands into big jars of paint and smearing it all over the canvas sized sheets of paper pinned on the easel. Face took a couple of boys who seemed to be having a heated dispute and offered them both some pointers on how to properly attack, counterattack and take the other guy down without anybody getting seriously injured.

That just left Jean who had some different ideas on what to do with the kids. When everybody else had picked the ones they were going to work with, Jean rounded up the rest, found out that B.A. had been teaching them how to make their own bows and arrows, as was taught to him by Daniel Running Bear's nephew Shelley; when she heard that, a light bulb went off, she took out a tube of Amy's lipstick, drew on all their faces calling it war paint, and christened them all as an honorary Indian tribe and told them the first order of business was going to capture and scalp the blonde man. Sounded like a fun idea to the kids. She drew on her own face as well and stole some feathers from Murdock's art supplies, stuck them in the kids' hair and her own as well, and led them on a hunt for 'the fancy white man'. They found him quickly enough, and whooping and hollering like in the old westerns, they dogpiled on Face and tackled him to the ground.

"Jean!" Face looked up and saw the person responsible for his ambush, "Get them off of me!"

Jean just folded her arms and grinned in response and said, "No can do, paleface, you're our prisoner now."

Face groaned and called out, "B.A.!"

"Now we scalp blonde man," Jean told the kids.

Face's eyes widened and he called again, louder and more frantic this time, "B.A.!"

B.A. came stomping up and one by one the kids piled off of Face and stood alongside each other.

"Alright, what's going on here?" B.A. wanted to know.

"Nothing," they all answered.

"We're just having a little fun at Face's expense, B.A.," Jean explained.

"Oh yeah? Well go do it somewhere else it's getting too crowded here," he told them.

"Alright," Jean turned to the kids and said, "Young braves, follow me," and stalked off to another part of the center's fenced off grounds.

"You alright, Faceman?" B.A. asked.

Face dusted himself off and said, "Oh yeah, I think so, nothing broken."

Jean led her tribe over towards the gate at the front and they looked back to the others; Murdock's art class hadn't been interrupted in the least, and Hannibal seemed to be doing a fair job of single handedly refereeing the ongoing football game.

"Hey, cool!" Jean heard one of the kids behind her say.

She turned around to see what it was he was talking about and she noticed the car parked out by the curb. It looked like some showroom new Mercedes that has recently come out, whatever it was, Jean was just guessing that it cost more than what all these kids' parents made in a month put together.

"Uh-oh," she said.

* * *

"Hey B.A.," Hannibal said as he came walking over towards the other men, "What's the holdup? The game's going nowhere while we're waiting on you."

"Hey Faceman," Murdock said as he also came up to them, wiping his hands on a bunch of paper towels, "Did you see anybody by my art supplies table? I'm missing about a dozen long blue feathers."

"Oh, I think I know where they went," Face said as he pointed over to where Jean and her bunch of kids were.

But when they looked where he was pointing, they saw the front gate was standing open and the kids were outside with Jean, who seemed to be getting into it with a man in the street.

"Uh-oh," Hannibal said, "We better see what's going on."

With mutual agreement, they all headed out to the front gate to see what was going on, and they came upon the others just in time to hear Jean say to the man, "You have no business here," she pointed back to the car and told him, "You're not from around here, that much is obvious. That's not the car of choice for any of the local city dwellers, the families here could eat for a year on what that thing costs. Only _two_ kinds of people in this neighborhood are going to be able to afford a new Mercedes-Benz, and you're _no_ quarterback, you're too shady to be a legitimate businessman, _and_, I think _you're_ a pervert!"

"What's going on out here, Jean?" Hannibal asked as they came up to her.

She wouldn't even look at him, she just stared straight ahead at the man and said to Hannibal, "Nothing, just pointing a few things out to our visitor here."

The man looked at Hannibal and, gesturing to Jean and the kids with painted faces and feathers in their hair, asked him, "Are all these your kids?"

Hannibal was taken aback by that question and genuinely shocked by it. It took him a few seconds but he recovered and answered point blank, "_None_ of these are mine."

"Yeah well I don't know what your relation is to this kid," the man pointed at Jean, "But she's got a big mouth, and you better shut her up before I do. And I'd suggest you get the rest of _these_ savages out of the street before _somebody_ runs them over."

"Oh yeah!?" Jean replied, then turned on her heel and hunched her neck down and her shoulders up and she started to walk off.

"Where're you going?" Face asked her.

"Hmmmmm," Jean growled deeply in her throat and through a closed mouth, sounding similar to the Indians in the old westerns, and she added in that same stereotypical tone, "Me gon' shoot heap big flaming arrows at Mercedes."

And nobody doubted that she would, but Hannibal decided that was one thing they didn't need her teaching the kids. He did have to agree with Jean though, he took a look at this man, his expensive clothes, his new car, and he could tell that this man did _not_ belong here, _any_ business he'd have would be something just as shady as he was. He grabbed Jean's wrist and took her aside and asked her, "You got any money on you, Jean?"

"Yeah sure, why?" she asked.

Hannibal scratched his eyebrow with his thumb and murmured to her, "I think Murdock's got the local ice cream vendors' routes and schedule memorized, why don't you and him take the kids out of here and get them some sandwiches? And _we'll_ talk to this nice gentleman."

Jean thought about it and slightly nodded, she murmured in response to Hannibal, "You think that car's paid off?"

"Probably, why?"

Jean looked back to it and mumbled to him, "Be a shame if something'd happen to it, wouldn't it?"

"Depends who you ask," he replied, then he turned towards the Captain and told him to help Jean round up all the kids and take them around the corner for ice cream.

Once they were gone, Hannibal addressed the man and told him, "I don't know who you are or what your game is here, but this is the local daycare center, and if anything happens to any of the kids who come here every day, we're going to hunt you down, find you, and make you regret the day your mother had you, you got that, pal?"

The man just sneered at him and replied, "Buzz off, _pal_, it's still a free country."

"Ah, well, _not_ exactly," Face decided to point out, "You see as soon as you came onto _this_ block," he pointed to B.A., "You just got knee deep in _his_ part of it."

"That's right, sucker," B.A. added, "I catch you around here again I'm gonna bust your head."

The man laughed like he was going along with a joke he didn't get, "What the hell is this?"

"This is your friendly neighborhood warning," Hannibal told him, "Now the _next_ time you step out of line with somebody we know," he twirled his finger like a helicopter rotor and said, "We're going to send you flying."

"You're crazy," the man told him.

"Well a close second," Face noted, "Our title holder just left."

"You know," Hannibal told the others, "I don't think he believes us." He turned back to the man and asked him, "You going to get out of here?"

The other man stood his ground and firmly told Hannibal, "Nope."

Hannibal shrugged and said, "You heard him, B.A."

"That does it, sucker," B.A. went over to the man, grabbed him and threw him clear over the roof of the car.

"Hey Hannibal," Face said as he went around to the other side of the car, "I think he dropped something."

Hannibal came around and saw a black briefcase knocked on its side. He opened it up and raised his eyebrows in mild surprise. "What would you say, Face? About 30 dime bags, at least?"

"What's the going rate on this stuff?" Face asked.

Hannibal poked a hole in one bag and collected a little white powder on his finger and touched his tongue with it. "Tastes like there's about $50,000's worth more where this came from somewhere."

Face whistled and said, "Not bad for a day's work I suppose, but, not my kind of business."

"Mine either," Hannibal said as he snapped the briefcase shut. He looked at the man and asked him, "So who're you working for?"

The next thing Hannibal knew, he was staring down the business end of a large handgun and the man answered, "Myself, now I'd advise you to get the hell out of here."

Hannibal, Face and B.A. all decided to humor the man and put their hands up for the moment; he had them at a bit of a disadvantage because he was too far for any of them to reach.

They were all shocked by the sudden sound of an explosion nearby. Hannibal turned and saw it was one of the headlights on the car shattering as an arrow hit it. The man turned to see where it came from and another one just missed giving him a very unique nose job. The others turned back and managed to duck out of the way just as they saw Jean fire a crossbow that had a flaming arrow attached to it. It hit the car, and the next thing they knew the whole thing blew sky high.

"Huh," Face said, trying to sound nonchalant though his knees felt like rubber, "Guess somebody didn't screw the gas cap on tight enough."

B.A. went over and grabbed the man who'd been knocked down by the momentum of the blast, pulled him up and knocked him down again by punching him in the face.

Hannibal turned and saw Jean and Murdock and all the kids behind them, and he noticed a couple of the kids had their own bows and arrows with them, that, he guessed, had been where the first two came from.

"Cute," he said simply as they came up to him, "_Real_ cute."

Jean smirked and raised her hand in the typical Indian 'how' gesture and said in response, "Ungawa, what's the matter, you ever know an Indian who didn't back up their threats?"

Hannibal chuckled and asked, "What tipped you off we might need some assistance?"

Jean pointed to Murdock and answered, "Heap scrawny paleface, great spirits in sky set off bells in head."

Face rolled his eyes and commented, "And I thought F-Troop was bad."

Jean gestured at him with the crossbow and said, "You be quiet, we still no scalp blonde man yet, maybe start bonfire and have blonde barbecue with maize."

Face took a step back when she said that.

"Where'd you get the crossbow from?" Hannibal asked Jean.

"Well actually, I borrowed it from the film studio a couple days ago," she told him, "It's being used in a new movie I'm working on and I always wanted to learn how to use them."

"Quick learner," Hannibal replied humorously.

"Hey B.A.!" Joey came running up to the Sergeant and asked him, "What happened?"

B.A. grunted as he got done tying up the man under him and told the boy, "It's a long story, Joey."

"Oh I don't know, I think it's a perfectly short story," Face said, and looked back to the 'tribe' he said, "It's the Battle of Little L.A., the Indians versus the cocaine cowboys."

"Sounds about right to me," Murdock added.

B.A. only snorted in response to that.

* * *

Another day and another would-be drug dealer and his would-be buyer in jail, courtesy of four men who would never publicly get the credit for their work. After that, the rest of the afternoon had been spent in restoring something resembling order to the daycare center. When everybody went home for the night, they all figured they could finally get some rest and put the day behind them.

That had been the plan anyway. Jean had figured she and Murdock would have the house to themselves for the night, but instead the others decided to come over for dinner and stay for a few hours. Immediately after dinner, Jean and Hannibal got settled on the couch and did a quick read through of the lines Jean was going to have to memorize for a new audition. Through the middle of the rehearsal though, Jean completely broke off from it and out of nowhere asked Hannibal, "How come there aren't any westerns on TV anymore?"

He shrugged and said, "I guess the genre finally died out."

"Just as well," Jean yawned and made a feeble attempt to curl herself up on her side of the couch, "Aside from 'The Lone Ranger' and Steve McQueen's show, I found them all to be pretty boring, not enough violence, you can only take so many gunfights and saloon brawls where they do the same thing over and over and over before it gets old, and _dull_."

Hannibal chuckled, and when he noticed she was starting to fall asleep he reached over and pinched her to keep her awake.

"And how about 'The Range Rider'?" he asked.

"That's Murdock's show, I don't watch it, I don't watch much of _anything_ at 3 in the morning," she answered.

She closed her eyes again and Hannibal reached over and bopped her on the head with his copy of the script. When she opened her eyes again he said to her, "Tell me something, kid, how the hell did you ever decide to be a stuntman in movies?"

"It was easier when all I had to do was drive a car and wear that _ridiculous_ white suit," Jean told him, "In the beginning it was just something that came naturally to me."

"Uh-huh," Hannibal glanced over the dialogue again and said, "But now you're switching to regular acting."

"Hopefully it's less dangerous," Jean said, "My back can't take a whole lot more of what I've been doing."

Hannibal couldn't resist asking her, "Did you ever try acting _before_ you got the stunt work?"

"Not really," she answered, "Uh…once in school I read for the part of Frankie in 'The Member of the Wedding'."

"How'd that go over?" he asked.

She shook her head, "Didn't get it, they said I was too histrionic and too overly dramatic for the part."

Hannibal did a double take, "Is that even possible?"

"I guess, though I can't imagine how," she said as she scratched her hair with one hand, then she stopped and opened her eyes wide and hummed to herself, "Hmmm…now that might be something worth keeping in mind the next time Decker comes around."

Hannibal laughed and remarked, "I hate to break it to you, kid, but I think he's becoming immune to your methods."

"Then I'll just have to improve upon my work," she replied, "If there's a way to get the same look on his face like somebody dropped a live carp down his jockey shorts, then I'll find it."

He continued to laugh and said, "I'm sure you will."

* * *

The sounds of the fight on the television set were just about drowned out by B.A. half mumbling to himself as he kept bobbing up and down where he sat on the couch and throwing shadow punches into thin air as he watched the two men beating each other bloody in the ring. Murdock sat beside him with his eyes glued to the set and also did a little bouncing and punching as well, but nowhere near the amount the big mudsucker was. On the other end of the couch sat Jean who was doing well to maintain half as much interest in the fight and was just about to get seasick from the couch seats bouncing from underneath her as B.A.'s excessive weight on and off the couch made the whole thing vibrate. She dropped her handful of popcorn back in the bowl and commented as she got up from the couch, "The rides at Coney Island aren't _this_ nauseating."

She sat up on the arm of the couch and pointed to the screen and asked B.A., "So you actually know that blonde goon?"

B.A. looked to her and answered, "Oh yeah, we go back to 'Nam."

"Uh-huh," Jean leaned over to Murdock and murmured into his ear, "He took the shell, didn't he?"

Murdock turned to her and asked, "Huh?"

"Nothing," Jean replied.

Murdock looked back to the fight and told Jean, "Man this guy is really something, you know, I used to dream about being a professional wrestler…"

Whatever else Murdock had planned to say was drowned out by Jean's laughing as she fell off the arm and onto the floor. She pulled herself up again and said, "You, Murdock? You a professional wrestler?"

"Why not?" he asked.

She laughed so hard she about fell down again. "Murdock, you look more like those rubber stretch dolls they pull out of joint. Professional _basketball_ player maybe, but a wrestler?" She shook her head and said, "You'd never make it."

"Why not?" he asked.

"Hush up, fool," B.A. told him.

Jean sat back on the arm and told him, "_Because_, you are what, 150 pounds? And you'd be getting into the ring with these fat palookas who are 300 pounds or more, one body slam and you'd look like a cymbal."

Murdock waved her off and turned his attention back to the fight.

"What about that one guy with the rubber bands in his face?" Jean asked, "He looks like he'd eat you up, the referee would count 10 and they'd find your feet sticking out of his mouth."

"Oh yeah?" Murdock asked as he leaned towards her in a slightly hunched over position.

"Yeah," Jean replied as she mirrored his lean and pressed her scrunched nose up against his scrunched nose.

* * *

Early the next morning, Face had decided to pay a visit and see what Murdock was up to. As he walked up the sidewalk, he could hear some noises from the house coming out through the open windows. Since Jean's house had a somewhat elevated porch due to the foundation under it, her ground floor windows were high up enough you pretty much had to stand on tiptoe to see inside. Face followed the sounds around to the windows on the side of the house facing the driveway. He got on his toes and looked in and at first was amused when he saw Murdock and Jean chasing each other around the room, but quickly felt his stomach drop when he saw Jean catch and grab Murdock and slam him into the wall. He got loose and tried returning the favor and was about to throw her up against the wall, but she kicked him and they both lost their balance and fell on the floor. Jean immediately started to crawl away from him but Murdock grabbed her by the ankle, she half turned over and kicked him with her free foot and jumped to her feet and took off running again, with him right behind her.

Face backed away from the window and tried to make some sense of what he had just seen.

"Hey Face," he about jumped a mile when he heard Hannibal's voice booming behind him, "What's up?"

Face spun around to face the Colonel and told him, "It looks like Murdock and Jean are trying to kill each other."

"Again?"

"No, I mean it, look in there!" Face pointed to the window.

Hannibal went to the window and they both leaned against the siding to peer in. Once again, they were chasing each other through the rooms. Murdock banged his knee against one of the chairs at the dining room table and he threw it in Jean's way to get away from her, but she jumped over it and chased him into the living room. They disappeared from the window's view for a few seconds but came back around, and Murdock sprinted into the dining room again and quickly found himself pinned against the wall with nowhere to turn, and completely at Jean's mercy, and he sank to the floor laughing and she joined him a few seconds later.

Hannibal and Face looked at each other like they'd both lost their minds, and glanced back in and tried to hear them talking.

"If that's their idea of foreplay, I'm out of here," Face said.

"Shh," Hannibal told him, "Listen."

"Now that's good, Jean," Murdock told her, "But the next time do remember to apply more pressure when you're stomping on a guy's back, otherwise he'll reach around, grab you, knock you down and you'll be at _his_ mercy."

"Alright," she replied, "Now what about that other thing you were talking about? This one," and she reached around and wrapped her arms around his neck from behind.

"Well that's a nice try," Murdock said as he pulled her hands off of him, "But for it to be an accurate scissors hold, you need to grab something first…" he looked around for something to use as a demonstration and found something, "Ah ha…" he grabbed a military magazine off the table, rolled it up and pressed it against Jean's throat with his hands gripping the opposite ends of it, "Like that, now _that_ is an effective scissors hold."

Jean got loose, took the magazine and tried it herself, pressing her right arm against the left side of his neck and the same with her left arm and the right side of his neck.

"Like that?" she asked.

"Ya, like that," he said around his choking, "Let go."

Jean smirked at him and said, "Hey that's not a bad move, I'll have to keep that in mind sometime."

"Oh yeah?" Murdock coughed, "For what?"

"For this," Jean said, and tackled him to the floor, both of them laughing the entire time.

Hannibal stepped back from the window and Face followed.

"Trying to kill each other, eh?" Hannibal asked.

"Well," Face shrugged, "I thought they were."

"Well," Hannibal replied, "Are you going to go in or just try fading into the background?"

"Uh…" Face got on his toes and glimpsed in the window once more, "Are you sure this is a good time?"

"Oh I'm sure if we move quickly enough we can get in while it's _still_ a good time," Hannibal told him, "Come on."

They went around to the front porch and rang the bell. A few seconds later they heard Murdock's footsteps as he galloped to the front hall and could still hear him giggling like a naughty little boy.

"Hey Colonel, Faceman, what's up?" he asked.

Jean came up behind him and didn't say anything, but it was obvious that she was wondering the same thing.

"Come on, Murdock, we've got to go," Hannibal said.

"What's the rush?" Murdock asked.

"I think we've got a new client," he said, "We're going out to speak to them right now."

"Hey Hannibal, can I come too?" Jean asked inquisitively, "I never get to meet anybody you work for."

Hannibal and Face looked at each other and mutually shrugged. He turned back to Jean and told her, "I don't see why not, though I'll warn you, from what I've seen of this guy during his tests with Mr. Lee and the fisherman on the dock, he's got a bad temper."

"Then the whole bunch of us ought to get along _just_ fi-i-i-i-ne," Jean remarked as they headed out the door.


	10. Chapter 10

As fond as Hannibal was of his 'through the front door' approach to many situations, it was starting to occur to him that when they made house calls to their clients that it might be safer to go through the front door under a public guise that wouldn't draw attention. So, he'd had Face scam them a plumbing company van, and the whole bunch of them went in their client's home wearing overalls and carrying tools. From the outside the house looked somewhat above average; it was a big two-story house that was well tended to, externally anyway. The yard also looked professionally done, at least from the viewpoint of an amateur. As they headed in, Jean commented on how it ought to be very interesting talking to these people.

"Sorry for the spectacle," he told Mr. Reginald and Mrs. Annette Dixon as one by one they dropped the tools in a pile on the hallway floor and followed their clients into the dining room and then the living room, "But we decided it was best not to make ourselves look anymore interesting than we could help."

He felt like he'd unexpectedly sat on a whoopee cushion when he heard Jean behind him commenting to somebody, "Whoo-oo-oo-ee, look at them knicky-knacks, reminds me of the reform school." Embarrassed and taken aback as he was, he managed to keep from laughing though he couldn't restrain the look on his face. He composed himself and said, "Allow me to introduce everybody, I'm Hannibal Smith, this is B.A. Baracus, that's H.M. Murdock, that's Templeton Peck, the Faceman, and these are a couple of our friends, this is Amy Allen and that's Jean Rhodes."

"Nice to meet you," Annette said as she nervously gripped the top of her unbuttoned sweater together at the collar.

This was Hannibal's first time seeing the wife, so far he'd only dealt with Mr. Dixon, and on first glance he could tell these two were day and night, she sounded like she couldn't raise her voice to save her life, and he couldn't shut up to save his own. They were a couple in their 30s though the wife's mousy demeanor made her appear at least 10 years older, she even dressed like an old lady, plain, dull and dark colored clothes, a hairdo not usually worn on women under 60, if she wasn't depressed Hannibal didn't know anybody who was. But whether it was from the trouble they've been having lately or just their married life in general, he couldn't tell.

Bringing up the rear, Jean elbowed Face and asked him quietly, "Was it like this when you guys came to my parents' house when I was gone?"

Face could tell that she was aiming at more than just the couple's demeanor, he looked around the house and noted how it was small but looked like the wife had gone to a lot of trouble to compensate by making it look nice and fancy, and he remembered that the Rhodes' house _did_ look something like this when they first met. He nodded and whispered, "Pretty much."

"Now you told our associate, Mr. Lee, that you were having some trouble with some local thugs?" Hannibal asked.

"I told that eggroll Mr. Lee, I told _everybody_," Mr. Dixon told Hannibal, "All I get is the runaround while my family's lives are being threatened."

"Mr. Dixon," Hannibal said as he blew a little smoke the man's way, "I'm sure you can appreciate how careful we have to be, _anybody_ could claim to be in need of our assistance and it could be a trap set up by the military to catch us. We have to take precautions in screening out our clients to make sure they are who they say they are."

"Meanwhile my wife and I both could've been killed for all you cared, running us through your city-wide obstacle course, wait in the alley behind the laundromat at 2 in the morning, in the pouring down rain, go out on a dock and meet some kooky English goat fishing, in an electrical storm!"

Face shrugged and commented, "Well business waits for no weather."

"Well I certainly hope you'll be able to help us," Annette said, "Do we need to discuss the money up front or…later?"

"If you'd like we can get to that now," Hannibal answered, "I think it's only fair to tell you that our rates are generally $100,000."

"WHAT?!" Mr. Dixon about shot through the roof.

"It _is_ negotiable though," Face felt a sudden need to add, "I'm sure we can work something out that you're comfortable with."

"I don't believe this," Dixon said, "My life's in danger and you're looking to bankrupt me just for the privilege of helping us?"

"You can always take your money elsewhere if you think you can do better for less," Jean spoke up.

"This is nuts!" Dixon turned to his wife.

Murdock smiled and pointed at himself, but it went largely unnoticed as the man continued to rant and rave.

Hannibal stood where he was listening to Mr. Dixon blowing his top for several minutes about the absurdity of it all, and then he calmly replied, "Are you quite finished, Mr. Dixon?"

The man didn't take kindly to Hannibal's casual attitude and got in the Colonel's face and said to him, "You know something, pal, I don't think I _want_ you people helping us, I don't think I like you."

"_You_ don't like him?" Jean pushed her way to the front and got in the man's face and said to him, "_Pal_, were you _ever_ in the Army? Do you know the first thing about basic training? Do you know the _hell_ that those drill sergeants put you through every minute of every day? You'd probably be surprised how many recruits lie awake nights just plotting, planning, _fantasizing_ about killing every last one of them. And me," she put her hand to her chest near her collarbone as she continued, "I was no exception, and it didn't get any better when I left…now I've got _this_ guy to deal with," she gestured back to Hannibal, "He is _worse_ than any drill sergeant, _he_ is a pain-in-the-neck colonel who has seen fit to make my life miserable ever since I met him. He _especially_ I lie awake nights thinking of all the ways I'd like to kill him, been _plenty_ of times I fantasize about taking a screwdriver and just ramming it through his ears!"

At that comment, the others looked to Hannibal, who just shrugged and seemed to have an amused little smirk on his face as he watched Jean go off on their client.

"The man is the living definition of infuriating as hell and he loves to rub it in and let you know it. He's been in the Army twice and I'm sure everybody who ever worked underneath him would've been only too happy for him to step on a stray landmine. But you know what? _That's_ why he is what he is and that's why he's a Colonel, because he knows what he's doing, despite what everybody else thinks about him _and_ how he works. That's what makes him the best, which is _why_ we're all here now, you want somebody for this job, you want the best, and if you want the best, you better learn to take him as he comes, because from here on out he can only get uglier, believe me."

* * *

"So it seems that our client's troubles began right after he moved his physical therapy office for people who don't qualify for the hospital's program, onto the third floor of a building that has largely turned up vacant over the past few months, but there's steady business two floors above him, namely run by a guy named Vincenzo Patterson," Face said as he went over the notes he'd taken during their conversation with the Dixons, "Amy said that she would run the name and see if she could come up with any records or names of known associates, I don't think it's anyone we know but it _does_ sound like a guy with shady dealings up his sleeve."

"Well we'll just have to go out and pay a visit and see what the neighbors make of us," Hannibal said. He stopped and looked out the front window and saw Jean pacing around the front yard.

Face didn't know if Hannibal was aware of it so he took it upon himself to explain, "She never came back in after she talked to him."

"I see," Hannibal said, "Tell the others to hold off on taking everything back out to the van for a minute."

He went to the front door and joined Jean out in the yard. Jean stopped pacing and looked at him with a half embarrassed smirk on her face and she said, "I guess I really screwed up in there, huh?"

"Well, we tend to be a bit more civilized about it," Hannibal said as he took out a new cigar and bit down on it, "But between you and me, somebody had to shut him up."

Jean covered half her face with her hand and grumbled, "I'm sorry about what I said in there."

Hannibal shrugged dismissively and said, "You were just being honest, I _know_ I don't make any effort to be an easy person to get along with or even a particularly _nice_ person to know," he flashed his trademark smile and added, "That's all just part of my natural charm."

She smiled awkwardly and told him, "It wasn't so much you…I was just thinking about when I signed up to join the Army…I'll tell you, Hannibal, I don't get it. Exactly _how_ do you train these people to follow your every command, when they spend every waking moment planning ways to brutally murder _you_ because since in training there is no enemy, _you_ are the enemy?"

"It's complicated, kid," Hannibal said, and shrugged, "You didn't belong in the Army, you were too independent, you didn't have to be one of them, you stood alone."

"You trying to make a point here, Hannibal, or are you just having a grandstanding moment?" she asked.

"Back during the Civil War, volunteer armies were something of a big thing, women could join them and openly fight as women, they didn't have to disguise themselves as men, they fought wearing their skirts over their uniform trousers, _very_ popular idea for some of them," Hannibal said, "Volunteer armies operate differently, they have more room to make up their own rules to follow. It's only too bad we're so organized today that there's no room for them anymore, because they were damn good in battle, and you would be too, _that_ would be where you'd belong."

Jean folded her arms and got out a chuckle, "Somehow I don't think Marie Tepe would want me alongside her at Gettysburg. Tell me something, Hannibal, are _most_ of your clients like this guy?"

"Oh most of them are easier to talk business with," he told her, "Ones like this hothead are rare, but their nasty dispositions don't make their cases any less relevant."

"So, what's your take on his complaint?" Jean asked.

"It sounds like there's some crook running people out of a 10-story office building, but he's still keeping his own business up on the fifth floor, my guess is whatever business this guy's into, he wants to bring in more customers or more partners, and that means running the legitimate businesses out," Hannibal said, "We're going to go over and check it out."

"Good luck," she said as she turned and started to walk away.

"Hold it," Hannibal told her, making her stop in her tracks, "We're going to need your help."

Jean turned around and asked him, "With what?"

"Face is going to find a place to scam for us, if we're going to do this right, we need a house to have these goons come to and threaten us personally," Hannibal said, "And we're going to need to get everything set up before that happens, and that's where you come in."

* * *

"Two days getting this house in order," Jean grumbled as she came down the stairs, and asked Face, "How come when you scam a place you can't scam a cleaning woman to go with it?"

Face shrugged, "She's using her vacation days this week, besides, Amy had work to do for the Courier, otherwise we probably could've gotten done sooner."

"Well," Jean said with a huff, "Everything's done, everything's been cleaned up so this place actually looks like somebody's using who's got some money to them. The cameras and recorders are hidden in place and running as we speak and ready to pick up whatever the hired muscle grunts out when they pay their visit. When does Hannibal expect these people are going to be here?"

"Well he opened up his office in the building yesterday posing as a semi-professional psychiatrist, so I'm sure they ought to be coming soon," Face said.

"Actually Hannibal estimated that they ought to be here by around 5 o' clock this afternoon," Murdock said as he adjusted his butler's uniform.

Jean looked him up and down and told Murdock, "Boy you look weird in that monkey suit."

Murdock scratched his white gloved hand under his black jacket clad armpit and replied, "Ooga-booga, anyway, so we ought to have plenty of time to make sure everything's perfect."

"Scratch that," Hannibal said as he came down the stairs, "They're pulling in the driveway now."

"What!?" Face asked.

"They have more brains than I gave them credit for, I'm surprised," Hannibal said as he joined them in the dining room.

"I'll go out the back way," Jean said, knowing that they didn't need her here for Hannibal's plan.

"No time for that, they'll see you," Hannibal grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her over to the small closet on the other side of the room.

Jean resisted weakly and replied sarcastically, "Oh come on, Hannibal, not the old broom closet routine, not that old gag."

Hannibal opened the door and pushed Jean in and pushed her down and told her, "Stay low to the ground, don't make any noise, you should be alright here."

"Alright," she said reluctantly.

Hannibal closed the door and locked it, and he and Face got into position while Murdock went to answer the door. The pilot moved with a slight hop, skip and a jump, before slowly opening the door and saying in his best Lurch impression, "You ra-a-a-ang?'

"Where's McClellan?" a 6-foot, 220 pound goon in a black suit asked as he about mashed his crooked nose against Murdock's.

Murdock turned his eyes sideways first, then his head followed like Count Orlok, then he turned on his heel and the rest of his body followed suit and he said only, "Follow me."

Murdock came into the dining room and said, switching to something resembling a James Mason impression, "There's somebody here to see you, boss."

Hannibal sat at the far end of a very long table in the dining room in a blue suit with a black hat cocked to the side on his head and a coy smirk on his face. "Ah, come in, gentlemen, what business would you like to discuss?"

The man cracked his knuckles and almost subtly rammed them into Hannibal's face and told him, "Mr. Patterson doesn't appreciate you cutting in on his territory."

"Oh I'm sorry, I didn't realize that he was also a psychiatrist."

"He's not, it's the building that's his territory."

"The office was available for rent," Hannibal pointed out calmly.

"It was vacant, that doesn't mean it was available," the man said, "And if you don't clear out of there, you're going to be sorry."

"Oh really?" Hannibal asked.

However the smirk was wiped off his face when he saw five other men roughly the same size men come in behind the first one, and a couple of them were carrying guns.

"Really," the first man replied, "Mr. Patterson don't take kindly to people who intrude on his property and his work."

"I see," Hannibal said calmly as he raised his arms slowly and simultaneously pressed a button installed in the floor with his foot, setting off a silent alarm that let B.A. know his presence was required immediately.

The gunmen barked at Face and Murdock to also grab some sky, and the two men were only too happy to oblige, for the moment.

"Who else is in this house?" the main goon asked.

Hannibal shook his head with a smile, "Nobody."

The man looked at him suspiciously and said rhetorically, "Why don't I believe that?"

Hannibal decided to play along and asked, "I don't know, why _don't_ you believe that?"

A noise broke out that might as well have been a gunshot ringing out through the otherwise quiet room, and the three Team members felt their hearts skip a beat. A cough. A low, muffled cough, emanating from somewhere nearby.

"Nobody, huh?" one of the gunmen asked, "What was that?"

"Uh…mice," Hannibal said.

There was another low cough, and the intruders were starting to catch on to where they were originating from. One of the triggermen inched over towards the closet, but before he could open the door, they all heard a low groaning voice call out from inside, "Don't do this, Hannibal, please," and heard a weak pounding high up on the door.

Before anybody had a chance to react, the gunman blew two holes into the door. Also before anybody could react, more holes were blown into the walls on either side of the door, Face and Murdock turned and saw B.A. standing in the kitchen entrance with a gun in his hands and he stopped firing long enough to bark at the men in black, "Freeze, suckers!"

Hannibal got up from his chair, picked it up and broke it over one man's head, Murdock grabbed another man and put him in an effective sleeper hold and dropped him, Face KO'd a couple by punching them in the face, B.A. went over to another and beat him over the head with his gun, and the man went out like a light.

Hannibal moved over to the closet and called in as he undid the lock, "Jean, are you okay?"

Not so muffled now they could hear Jean screaming, "_Get me out of here!_"

Hannibal pulled the knob but the door was stuck, "Jean, are you close to the floor?"

In a bout of almost comedic hysteria and rage, Jean hollered out, "If-I-was-any-closer-to-the-floor, I'd-be-in-the-_basement_!"

This time the door opened, and they saw that when the gunfire started, Jean had somehow managed to squeeze herself even lower to the floor than they would've thought possible, and now she seemed to be stuck in that position. Hannibal reached in and grabbed her and carefully started to pull her out and he asked her, "You alright, kid?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," she said, and let out another cough, "I'm sorry, Hannibal, I couldn't help it."

He looked her over to make sure she hadn't been hit and he held her against him for a few seconds and patted her on the back and told her, "It's alright, kid, it could've been any one of us."

Murdock came over and helped her up and asked her again, "You alright, darling?"

"Yeah, I'm okay," she said, though it was obvious she was having trouble _not_ shaking.

"Now what, Colonel?" Murdock asked.

"Well," Hannibal looked at the men laying unconscious on the floor and said, "It's not exactly what I had planned but it can be worked around. I think our next order of business is to get them tied up and then we're going to go pay this Vincenzo Patterson a visit."

"If it's all the same to you, Hannibal, I think I'll go home now," Jean said.

"Alright, if we need you we know where to reach you," he replied.

* * *

"A what?" Jean asked when she joined the others at a bar that night where they were cooling off from the battle royale and also celebrating having this mission finished ahead of schedule.

"Get this one," Face told her, "This guy Patterson was running all the other businesses out of the building so he could make it a sort of high rise casino. Can't blame him for aiming high but _man_, where do they come up with these kooky ideas?"

"Comic book plots for the comic book minds," Murdock said sinisterly as he wrung his hands, "I guess they're getting new writers."

"Yeah well," Face said as he downed his drink, "I still say that guy Patterson's as nutty as an almond bar."

Jean tapped him on the shoulder and said, "That's Almond Joy."

"Shhhh," Face hissed, "You want to get a letter from the company?"

"Well," Hannibal said as he picked up three mugs of beer off a tray and passed them around to the others, "Here's to a job well done, and ahead of time."

"Uh Colonel," Murdock pointed.

"Oh, sorry, Jean," Hannibal said.

She got up from their table and said, "It's alright, I'll be back in a minute."

Jean went over to the bar and ordered a beer, and while she waited, she turned and said to B.A., "You look like a cat waiting for the door to open and run out."

B.A. looked at her through one eye and without directly answering, told her, "It's late, _I'm_ tired, I want to get out of here," he nodded towards the table, "Gotta wait till Hannibal says it's time, though."

Jean smirked. She picked up her bottle and had just started to take a swig of it when she heard some loudmouth behind her who could suddenly be heard over the music playing on the jukebox. She put her bottle down and turned to see who it was and she noticed the idiot was a barfly over by the pool table who threw his cue down and staggered away. Jean got her beer and moved back towards their table, but along the way she collided with the man, who had more than a few choice words for her and moved on over to the bar. She had been willing to let it go, but as she started to sit down with the others she heard the same man bellow out as he turned to look back at her, "Since when did they start letting the white trash into this place?"

Jean got up from her chair, went over to the man and said, "Would you care to repeat that?"

"You heard me," he said, his words starting to slur, then he looked her up and down and added, "Yeesh you's one _ugly_ woman."

"Uh-oh," Face said as he pushed his chair back, just knowing that this was about to become one ugly situation.

B.A. had missed most of their conversation but he came up beside Jean and got in the man's face and asked him, "What'd you say, sucker?"

"I said that is one _ugly_ woman," the man repeated, clearly too inebriated to be aware of how much danger he was in, "Think you came to the wrong place, sister, that bar for the butch women's down on 2nd Street."

"I guess you'd know," she replied, "They kick you out for being too feminine?"

That stopped the man in his tracks and left him speechless for a second, but he retaliated by grabbing a mug of beer off the counter and half throwing, half pouring it on Jean, who, much to everybody's surprise, just stood there and took it. The man moved back to the bar and B.A. took one step towards the man to flatten his face, but stopped when he felt a very strong set of fingers curled around the collar of his vest. Jean had grabbed him to get his attention, and very calmly she told him, "_I'll_ handle this," and moved over to the man.

"Here we go," Face said with a wince as they all got ready to move.

Jean marched over to the laughing drunk and very suddenly, grabbed him by the front of his jacket and pulled him towards her and said in a dead-on Droopy impersonation, "You know what? …That makes me mad," and she kicked him in the groin and shoved him, sending him flying back against the counter.

Whether anybody else in that bar happened to be friends with the guy who was getting his brains beat out or if it was just a mob mentality kicking in was irrelevant. As soon as the fight started, _everybody_ got in on the action. Each member of the A-Team quickly found a partner and started a dance of pain, jaws got busted, faces got kicked in, drunks got picked up and hurled clear across the room. Another man grabbed Jean and she kicked him hard, when he let go of her she kicked him in the back and he fell forward but caught his balance before he hit the floor. Jean pressed her foot into his back and applied more pressure as she grabbed his arm and yanked it back, nearly dislocating it.

After the first few lucky shots, it was impossible to tell who was winning the fight, everybody found themselves lost in a pile of bodies. Hannibal crawled out from under six drunks that had fallen on him like a set of dominoes and he looked around to assess the damage elsewhere. Murdock and Face were getting their lights punched out, so B.A. came to their rescue and clunked their two assailants' heads together instead, then he kicked one and sent him to the floor, then he grabbed the other and sent him flying.

One by one everybody got back up and regrouped to find the others. Jean had gotten away from the last drunk she had KO'd and was just about to the others when another man came out of nowhere and grabbed her. They fought briefly, then the man grabbed the neck of her shirt and ripped the whole thing off of her and he knocked her back so she'd hit the floor, but instead she fell back against Murdock and Face who came up just in time to catch her before she cracked her head against the tiled floor. B.A. was about to kill him, but two of the bar's biggest bouncers came in in a late attempt to try and control the situation and he found himself getting rid of those two giant warts instead.

Jean slowly worked her way back to her feet and said mockingly to the man who assaulted her, "Well _now_ you've gone and hurt my feelings, _pal_," and she lunged into the fight again. She threw herself at the same man and grabbed him and slammed him into the wall. Then she grabbed a handful of his hair and grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him forward and threw him up against another part of the wall. Another came towards her, she grabbed a bottle off the counter and smashed it over his head, then wrestled him into a one armed headlock and held the broken piece of the bottle near his throat before letting go of him and kicking him forward, and she tossed the glass against the wall and let it shatter.

Hannibal shrugged his arms out of his safari jacket and he came up behind Jean and draped it over her, "Put this on, kid."

Jean slipped her arms in it but didn't take the time trying to button it, "Thanks, Hannibal."

"We better get out of here, Hannibal," Face pointed out, "There's _no_ way they're not going to call the cops on this one."

"Right," Hannibal agreed, "Alright everybody, you know the drill."

"Right!" Murdock replied dramatically as he pointed, "Exit, stage right!" and he picked up one of the bar stools and used it to break the front window since there was already a crowd at the door trying to push their way out. Murdock stood up on the window's ledge and called back to nobody in particular in the bar, "Put it on my tab!" and out he went, followed quickly by the others.

* * *

"Not one of our smoother exits," Hannibal said during the van ride back, "But it does in a pinch."

"Hell of a way to celebrate getting the job done," Murdock commented with a small chuckle. He turned to Jean and asked her, "You alright, hon?"

"Oh sure, I'm fine," Jean answered and joked, "Luckily I came prepared," and pulled back the collar of Hannibal's jacket to reveal the thick elastic strap of a sports bra on underneath.

Face managed a small, sheepish smile as he felt a need to note, "I didn't see a thing."

"I'm sure nobody else did either," Hannibal said, "Martians could've invaded and nobody in that bar would've noticed a thing."

"You know," Murdock said as he crossed his arms and pressed his feet up against Hannibal's seat in front of him, "It's almost too bad that that idea for the casino didn't pan out, I'd like to see how they could make one 10 stories high."

"Probably have something different on each floor," Face said.

"Sure, but I'd like to see that," Murdock said, "Roulette floor, slot machine floor, blackjack floor, poker floor, chuck-a-luck floor, baccarat floor…"

"And a craps floor," Jean added for him, "Sounds like his mistake was trying to open this business about 270 miles too far out west."

"Well really, what can you expect?" Face asked, "In Las Vegas there'd be too much competition from the casinos that are already in business and have about…20, 30 years seniority on him."

"I guess his poor planning was just a rotten throw of the dice," Murdock commented with a small laugh.

Jean opened her eyes and scowled at him and said, "Don't start trying to be funny, Murdock, we're not in the mood, it's bad enough we have to hear those moldy jokes from Hannibal all the time."

Hannibal turned in his seat and looked back at her similarly, she returned the gaze and remarked with a smirk, "Just making sure you were paying attention, Colonel."

"Mm-hmm," he replied around his cigar, "I think after the day we've had we could all stand to get home and crash for the night."

"Not me," Jean said as she kept his jacket closed with one hand and ran through her hair with the other, "I've got to get a shower first and wash off this beer, or the bugs will bite me all night."

"Well bite them back," Murdock murmured tiredly as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back against him, and quickly nodded off to sleep.


	11. Chapter 11

The next few days passed slowly and uneventfully, and given how busy life in general had been lately, nobody was complaining about the sudden inactivity. For the most part everybody kept to themselves, though for Hannibal, Face and B.A. that was a bit more difficult giving they were living together. By about the fourth day Hannibal and the others decided to pay the Captain a visit; the weather was nice and everybody enjoyed getting out in the fresh air, well as fresh as Los Angeles air got.

That in itself proved to be an eventful day because it turned out that was the day Murdock and Jean had gone out and picked up a cushioned lawn glider swing with a canopy to keep the sun out, and were trying to get it put together. Hannibal stepped in and offered his services, and he didn't know what went wrong but after a few minutes they had to bring B.A. in to correct what Hannibal had done. Within an hour they had it put together _accurately_ and within the second hour of completion, Face had fallen asleep sprawled out on the cushions of it.

That however, didn't last long because shortly after that, Jean came bouncing around to the front yard and tried to wake Face up, and when the Lieutenant didn't respond, she grabbed the swing to stop its gliding and she sat on him, _that_ got his attention. He sputtered and struggled and Jean got back up and waited for him to get all his lights on.

"What's going on, who is it, what is it?" Face wanted to know, "Oh it's you…what do you want, Jean?"

Jean reached over and knocked on his head and asked him, "Is it true B.A. put the engine of a Corvette into that old Rambler he has?"

"Where'd you hear that?" Face asked.

"From Murdock," she answered.

"Why do you want to know?"

"Because I'm wondering if the mudsucker could do a similar trick with the lawn mower out back, as far as we can tell the rest of it's fine but it's the engine's just shot to hell, and if we don't get the back mowed soon the chiggers are going to have a field day with everybody's ankles. You haven't seen Murdock in shorts lately, have you?"

Face had a very amused bug eyed expression as he replied, "No and I hope I don't anytime soon either."

"You know the best way to keep those bites from growing to the size of quarters is to put bandages on them tight to suffocate them? He looks like he cut his legs shaving, half a dozen times…per leg," Jean told him.

"Oh brother," Face groaned as he lay back down and closed his eyes.

He went back to sleep, and Jean went back around to bug the others. They wound up staying for the afternoon, and after a trip to the store to pick up some hamburger, potato chips, a 6-pack of cokes, some spare ribs, and 40 pounds of charcoal, they fired up the grill in the back yard and had a barbecue for dinner. Not, in Hannibal's opinion, a bad way to spend a day off.

* * *

A few days later when things were still slow, Hannibal went to pay Murdock and Jean a visit. It was hotter that day than the last time he'd been over, so it didn't surprise him when he pulled up to the curb and saw the two were out on a couple of sun loungers in the front yard apparently trying to get a tan. And it really _shouldn't_ have surprised him, knowing Murdock as well as he did, but he still chuckled when he went up to them and saw Murdock was trying to get a tan around his baseball cap, sunglasses, a pair of clam diggers, and a sleeveless shirt that still had too much of an upper body to it to be a tank top.

Jean looked up and lowered her sunglasses, "Hey, Hannibal, what brings you here?"

"Just thought I'd see how you two were getting along," he said, and nodded towards Murdock, "Do I even want to know?"

"I've been trying to get some color in him for about a year," Jean said, "This is about the most progress we've been able to make with him yet."

Hannibal noted that there hadn't been any response from the pilot yet and wondered if Murdock had fallen asleep from the heat.

"Wait'll you hear what his latest idea is," Jean added.

Hannibal turned to her and asked, "What?"

Jean managed to look halfway comfortable in the 96 degree sun even though all her skin was somewhere between pink and red and she looked like she'd sweated until she stuck to the lounge, "You'll find out soon enough, just be on the lookout for any mention of white paper."

Hannibal didn't get it, but alright. He nodded in agreement and that was when he noticed that Jean's clothes and her arms and legs were covered in something, he moved over towards her for a closer look and as best as he could tell, it was sawdust. He pointed down to her legs that were dusted with the stuff and asked again, "Do I even want to know?"

Jean lifted an arm and jerked her thumb towards the back yard. Hannibal could see a tall tree in the back with a tree saw stuck halfway through the trunk.

"The damn termites got to that peach tree and killed it," Jean said, "Just taking a break before I get the whole thing down."

Good as Hannibal was at guessing things, he couldn't tell how wide through the trunk of the tree was but he knew it was a damn stupid thing to try sawing it down in this heat, and he couldn't resist asking, "Why didn't you just use a chainsaw? Take the thing down in 10 seconds."

"Don't have one," Jean answered as she pressed herself back against the chair, and pointed to the man sleeping beside her, "Don't want him getting any ideas and trying to juggle them."

Hannibal smiled innocently and said, "Well, can't blame you for that…but why'd you have to pick today when we're in a heat wave to take it down?"

"Supposed to rain tomorrow," Jean told him, "Be a damn stupid thing trying to do in the rain."

Well he couldn't argue with that logic. He helped Jean off of the lounge and it was obvious she _had_ stuck to it and she winced as the skin was pulled on the back of her legs. They went around to the back and Hannibal was able to gauge that Jean was trying to saw across through 10 inches of…he tried counting the rings he could see in the wood but gave up after they started to blur together, the point was this thing had clearly been here for a while, and likewise was taking a while to get rid of. Jean resisted his offer to help and just told him to stand back, then she got a grip on the saw again and did a hell of a beaver imitation as she managed to cut the rest of the way across the trunk. Within a minute or so, he heard the wood creaking as the last few fractions of an inch holding the whole thing intact ripped apart as the weight shifted and they both got back as the 10 foot tree collapsed on the ground.

"Only you would wait until it was 100 degrees to do this," Hannibal murmured.

Jean ignored his comment and turned him and said, "Hannibal, you remember shortly after we first met…you asked if I believed in spirits?"

"Vaguely, why do you ask?" he wanted to know.

"Do you believe in ghosts?" Jean asked.

"Why?" he asked.

Jean looked back to make sure Murdock wasn't listening, and she told Hannibal, "Murdock's usually not the first one out of bed, if I try getting out he pulls me back towards him. Last couple mornings I've woken up alone, found him clear down the hall, talking to his mother."

Hannibal didn't know how to respond to that, only sucked in a slow inhale.

"Face said his mother died when he was 5, is that right?" Jean asked.

"As far as we know," he said.

Jean looked at him and asked, "_How_ did she die?"

Hannibal shook his head, "I don't know. Why?"

Jean explained, "The three main causes for ghosts are murder, suicide, and accidental death…" she shook her head, "Ghosts don't remain where people have died from natural causes, old age _or_ disease, otherwise hospitals would be the most haunted places in the world."

Hannibal tried to read between what Jean was saying, memories from years past came to mind but he pushed that aside and asked her, aiming for the jugular and knowing he'd hit a few nerves along the way as well, "Do you ever talk to your uncle?"

Jean shook her head, "Nothing to talk about, is there?"

"You'd know that better than I would, kid," he told her, "What was Murdock talking to his mother about?"

"I didn't really get it," she said, "And I didn't ask him about it."

Hannibal nodded, "Probably the best thing you _could've_ done." He looked at her and asked, "You having second thoughts about going with him tomorrow?"

Jean shook her head. "Can't back out now, I don't know what he's got planned but I'm guessing it's going to be something big."

"You know how Murdock is," Hannibal replied, "He never does anything the easy way. I'm sure he'll be fine, Jean."

"I have no doubt," she remarked, "Has he told you _anything_ about what he's got planned?"

Hannibal shook his head, "Not a word."

"But you wouldn't tell me even if you knew," Jean said.

"That's right," he answered with a smirk, "Hey listen, kid, if I don't see you tomorrow, happy birthday."

She nodded and replied, "Thanks, Hannibal."

* * *

That night Murdock was running around the house like a decapitated chicken making sure everything was in order, and he ran everything by his Colonel to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything.

"Now Hannibal, you promised that you'd watch after Billy while I was gone, right?" he asked.

"Right, Murdock," Hannibal answered.

"And whatever you do, _don't_ let B.A. give him to the pound."

"I won't," Hannibal said.

"You _know_ that the big guy's been threatening to sic the invisible dog catchers on Billy again," Murdock said with a pronounced pout.

"Murdock, I promise we'll keep a good eye on Billy and make sure B.A. doesn't do anything with him," Hannibal said, biting down at the last minute to resist the urge to ask since B.A. couldn't see Billy, _how_ could he be expected to do anything with the dog? While he was curious, he knew that he didn't _really_ want to know.

"So Murdock, what've you got planned for tomorrow?" Hannibal asked.

"Ah-ah-ah," Murdock wagged a finger at him, "Sorry, Colonel, but you know the walls got ears, and I don't want Jean to find out where we're going until we get there."

Hannibal nodded as he bit down on his cigar, "Understood."

"Hey Murdock," Face came into the room with his arms full of wrapped presents that he was about to drop and said, "I thought I better give these to you now before you leave in the morning, that way Jean can open them on time while you're gone."

"Ah thanks, Faceman, I appreciate it, and I know she will too," Murdock said as he took the packages and dropped them on the bed, and picked one up to shake, "What'd you get her?"

"Shhhh," Hannibal replied mockingly, "The walls have ears you know."

"Oh yeah, good point, Colonel," Murdock said.

"So, Murdock," Hannibal said as he watched the pilot get his bags packed, "Got every planned out for tomorrow? Everything coming alright so far?"

"Oh sure, everything's just _fine_, Colonel."

Hannibal nodded, and when the pilot's back was turned, shrugged helplessly. He knew very little about Murdock's posthumous relationship with his mother, and wasn't sure how to bring it up without setting something off in the Captain. Then something else hit him, and he thought he found a window of opportunity.

"Murdock, do you still have your Ouija board?" he asked.

"Yeah," Murdock turned around, "Can't have it out when Jean's around, she don't like it, makes me keep a Bible on it to shut it up. How come?"

"Oh…she mentioned something today, about spirits and ghosts…has she mentioned any of it with you?"

"Well," Murdock answered, "As far as I know she's always had some belief reserved in it…I think…I think it goes back to her Brutus period…but I'm not sure. I think that she's always maintained some kind of belief in it."

"Hmm," Hannibal considered, "And I suppose her uncle dying on her a couple months ago didn't help any."

Murdock shrugged, "She hasn't talked to me about that any if it's bugging her."

"You ever talk to Jean about your mother?" Hannibal asked.

Murdock looked surprised by that question but quickly recovered, "Ah…not much, any particular reason?"

Hannibal shrugged in return and said, "I asked her if she ever talks to her uncle…I think she got the idea I was crazy."

"_You_, Colonel?" Murdock asked.

"I thought maybe if you told her about how you talk to your mother, maybe it'd help cause a breakthrough in her," Hannibal said.

In truth, he doubted that Jean needed much of a breakthrough in this regard, but maybe with this pretext it would help Murdock address the issue so as to clear up some of the confusion between the pilot and his fiancée.

"So how long do you anticipate being gone tomorrow, Captain?" he asked.

"Oh…we should be back by the day after tomorrow, the next morning at latest," Murdock answered, "That alright?"

Hannibal nodded, "I think we'll be able to manage without you until then."

* * *

"Well let's see what Hannibal got me," Jean said as she pulled the card out from the package as Murdock flew them steadily along in the large plane he'd managed to 'rent' them for the day. Murdock took his eyes off the blue skies momentarily to watch her as she read the card. "Let's see, 'Dear Jean, saw this and immediately thought of you, Hannibal'," Jean ripped the paper open and pulled out a large hardback book and read the title, "50 True Tales of Terror, boy does he know me or what?"

Murdock laughed, "Not a bad haul for one day."

"No," Jean agreed as she flipped through the book and then placed it on the floor where she'd also placed the small video camera Face had given her and the dumbbells that B.A. had somehow managed to cleverly get wrapped up so nobody could tell what they were just by carrying the package they came in.

There had also been the presents that arrived in the morning mail from her parents in New York; her mother had sent her a new 1-piece blue swimsuit, and from her father, at least the tag had said from her father but Jean explained that it was usually her mother who just picked something out and signed his name to it, some ribbon cartridges for her typewriter since she had taken up retyping her dialogue in scripts when she saw a need to. Surprisingly it hadn't gotten her fired too many times, and the producers and directors were often satisfied with the new material.

"Well so far this has been a good day," Jean told Murdock, "But you _still_ haven't told me _where_ you're taking me."

"You'll find out when we get there," he answered.

"Come on, Murdock."

"Oh alright, lean over," he said, and when she did he whispered the answer into her ear.

Jean pulled back in surprise, "Murdock!"

He just sat in the cockpit seat next to her and grinned like he was a model for new toothpaste.

"Well!" he said, "I told you I'd take you to Las Vegas someday, have you by my side at the tables as my own personal lady luck."

"I don't believe you," Jean replied.

He just continued to grin and said, "It'll be fun, you'll see."

"A birthday in Sin City, who'd have guessed?" she asked herself, "Murdock, are you sure you know what you're doing?"

"Well I'm going in reverse order of how I made my way _out_ of Las Vegas back in '83 and managed to get _back_ to L.A., so we ought to be fine," he explained.

"You never told me _how_ you got back from Vegas," Jean pointed out.

"Hitched a ride on the runway," Murdock said by way of answering.

"Oh brother," Jean replied.

* * *

Jean didn't know what time it was, what day it was, or where they even were, the only thing she knew for a fact was that she'd had too much to drink last night. At least she thought it was last night, it _had_ to be, she never woke up early in the night. So it must be morning. Well, she wasn't in any hurry to get up to meet the sun, the way she was feeling right now, she knew she was going to stay in bed for a while. She doubted she'd had enough to drink that she actually got drunk, and this wasn't a full blown hangover. Still, everything felt like it was in a haze at the moment, and she was content to stay in bed until the feeling passed. But she decided to turn over and lay on her side for a change, she felt like she'd been on her back all night and she wanted a change of position.

She knew that something was wrong the minute she turned over because it felt like her blanket had been shredded to ribbons all over her. She rolled back onto her back and slowly opened her eyes, and felt like she'd passed through into the Twilight Zone when she saw she was lying under a pile of money. She closed her eyes and rubbed them and opened them again, as if expecting it to disappear, but when she looked again, she was still covered by a bunch of cash strewn all over the bed. She tried pulling herself into a sitting position but only managed to raise her head; looking past the bed she saw Murdock seated at a table in the room, counting a smaller pile of money laid out before him.

"Murdock," she tiredly croaked as she reached a hand up and felt through her hair.

Murdock stopped counting and turned to her. He got up from the table and went over to the bed, "Morning, Jean, how're you feeling?"

"Murdock…what's going on?" she asked as she slowly tried to make sense of what she saw, "What…where…where'd all this money come from?'

"Don't you remember, hon?" he asked, "We won it at the casino last night."

"Last night?" Jean covered her eyes with her hand, "No…no, I don't remember…"

Murdock kissed her on the top of her head and said jokingly, "I guess when you went in the water, the wine went in you. I told you that you was gonna be my lady luck, we hit it big last night!"

Jean moved and felt something was wrong. She looked down and brushed off some of the $50 and $100 bills that had gotten half plastered to her and saw that underneath she only had on one of the hotel towels.

"Murdock," she said as she grabbed the top sheet and pulled it up to cover herself, "Where're my clothes?"

"Well as we were leaving the casino last night, somebody spilled a whole tray of drinks on you," he recalled, "And you had them sent down to the hotel's laundry room, and then decided that we'd go swimming in the hotel's pool…after that, we came back here, you took a shower, and then when I came out of the bathroom you'd fallen asleep like that, so I figured…"

Jean inhaled and exhaled slowly as she took it all in and tried to remember, and slowly, bits and pieces were coming back to her. She remembered Murdock going from one slot machine to the next, to the next, insisting that he had to find just the _right_ one, and that if he could tell a good plane just by examining it before takeoff, then he could also find the right one-armed bandit, he just had to give them all a little look over first. She also remembered the machine sounding off when he'd come up with a matching three of something, she didn't remember what the payout was but maybe when her head had cleared more…

"What time is it?" she asked.

"About 9 o' clock."

"What time did we get in?" she asked.

"Around 4 I think," Murdock answered.

Jean groaned just thinking about it. She waited a few seconds and managed to get her eyes open again and keep them open this time, and she asked Murdock, "How much money did we win last night?"

"Well I ain't finished counting it yet," Murdock said, "But my guess would be around $25,000."

Jean managed to work her eyes open a little wider and groaned, "Whoa…" before she fell back against the pillows.

Murdock looked down at her and smiled. Maybe she _did_ have too much to drink last night, after a while she'd gotten tired of the casino games after she'd had a few turns at the blackjack table and the slot machines, and was content just to watch him try his luck at the roulette and craps tables. He kept her close to his side to make sure she didn't wander off in a half drunken stupor, and when he could tell she was _really_ getting tired of it he decided to call it a night. On their way out, somebody had lost their one handed balance on a tray of champagne glasses and Jean had been soaked. She insisted it wasn't any big deal and they continued to their room.

Maybe, thinking back, maybe she'd just been too tipsy to find the change of clothes she'd brought with her, and that was why she'd put on the new bathing suit her mother had sent her. After she emerged from the bathroom in it, going swimming seemed almost to be an afterthought for her. Still, he'd come prepared for anything that could be foreseeable for a weekend in Sin City; he got on his swimming trunks and they found the hotel's indoor pool and had a nice time in it. Jean seemed pretty lucid during the swim and they stayed in the water for about an hour or so. After they got out, they returned to their hotel room; first Jean had gotten a shower, then Murdock went in and got his. When he came out, already dressed for bed, he'd been surprised to see Jean laying on top of the covers, completely unconscious and wrapped up in only a towel.

Obviously the events of the big day, her birthday, now 25 years old and very close to being exactly 15 years his junior, had taken their toll on Jean and just simply wiped the poor thing out. Murdock looked at her for a few minutes and smiled, she was just too cute to disturb. He decided to leave her as she was, and then he got an idea. He went over to the suitcase he'd filled with their winnings from the casino, grabbed a couple handfuls of bills, and tossed them in the air right over the bed and watched them rain down on her. She didn't move. He got a couple other handfuls and did a more thorough job of covering her with them. Too bad he hadn't brought a camera, he thought she looked adorable this way. This was the kind of stuff people paid big money to get centerfolds to model for, and she could do it in her sleep, and look a lot cuter the way _she_ did it. He decided to leave her as she was until the morning, and he instead went to sleep on the couch in their suite a few feet over from the bed. And _now_ here they were.

Jean had fallen asleep again and Murdock decided to let her rest. He cleared the money off of the bed and drew the covers up over her. He got the money all bagged up and tucked away where nobody would find it, and then he decided that since they were still on leave, that he might as well get some rest as well. He climbed in on the other side of the bed and burrowed under the covers himself, though he left the top sheet underneath him on his side and up over Jean on her side. He got one hand out from under the covers and patted the top of Jean's head and said lowly to her, "Happy birthday, darling."

She didn't respond, as he knew she wouldn't, so he turned over, got himself comfortable, and also got ready to fall asleep. But before he did, he looked up to the ceiling of their hotel room and said with a small smile, "I think you'd like her, Mama. I know I sure do."


	12. Chapter 12

The afternoon came and found Murdock and Jean still in bed. Since that morning they'd gotten up, dressed, had lunch, counted through their winnings from the previous night once again, and after ordering up some champagne and helping themselves to a couple drinks, made their way back to the bed again. This time it was made and they lay on top of the covers both on their sides, Murdock pressed up against Jean, she was asleep but he was still awake and enjoying every minute as he used one hand to stroke through the back of her hair and kept the other pressed against Jean's stomach. He smiled to himself as he tried to imagine what it would be like once they were married, and once…he grinned and tightened his hold against her abdomen, once there was a little baby in that stomach…he knew he was jumping the gun but it was a fun thing to think about.

"Murdock," Jean groaned as she started to wake up, though she didn't open her eyes.

"Yah?" he asked.

She moved her stomach against him and asked him, "What're you doing?"

"Oh," he pulled his hand back, "Just thinking…"

"About what?" she asked as she turned over slightly.

"Well for one, about once we get back home, trying to fatten you up a little," Murdock said, "I'm like Columbo, I don't like my women too thin, I'd never have it."

"Oh, you'd rather have me like the time Hannibal kept touching my stomach and told the whole hospital I was pregnant?" she asked as she opened her eyes and looked back to him.

"Well," he said as he ruffled through her hair playfully, and then pulled it back, "You need to quit washing your hair so much, it's getting dry."

"I wash it once a week whether it needs it or not," she replied, "Now what were you saying about fattening me up?"

He smiled at her and said as he wrapped his arms around her waist, "I don't want you skinny, I like you nice and soft."

"Ha-ha," she replied, "Believe me, this wasn't my idea of a good look either…if I'd known I'd be spending half my time at that work camp, and the other half running around playing G.I. Joe for some sadistic director, I would've bailed out of both projects."

Murdock smiled as he hugged her tighter and pulled her back against him and added, "Also been thinking about once you and I are married, when we have a child of our own."

She looked back to him and said, "That's a long time away, Murdock."

"Oh I know that," he replied, "Still like thinking about it."

"One thing about it, I definitely got to get a different line of work before that happens, something safer," Jean said.

"You know I'd have enough to take care of both of you," Murdock told her.

"I know, but I don't want you doing that," Jean said as she pulled his hands off of her and pulled herself over to the edge of the bed.

"Well, got any ideas?" Murdock asked.

She looked back to him sheepishly and asked him, "Would you think I was crazy if I said I'm considering switch to writing scripts?"

"Nah, I think that's great," he said, "Got to be better than the stuff you been reading to audition with."

"I doubt I'll get far with it," Jean replied, "For all the scripts I've read I still haven't gotten the hang of the formatting: int., ext., cut to, closeup, so and so's POV, so I figured first I'd start with the basic storyline and whatever dialogue particularly sticks out, and then fine tune it as a screenplay."

Murdock shrugged and said, "Could work…you got any ideas currently?"

She laughed dryly and said, "Yeah, I got one idea I'm working on," and inch by inch she scooted away from him on the bed and moved to their luggage, "I brought it with me so I could keep it fresh, so when we get back I wouldn't forget and could start work on it again."

Murdock was practically bouncing on the mattress as he saw her take a few stapled pages out of her suitcase and hand them to him.

"I had an idea," she said, "You know how people are writing books set a couple years from now, when it's the 100th anniversary of the Jack the Ripper murders? They make it that 100 years later there's someone else butchering women the same way he did, well…I thought I'd try setting it a few more years ahead, to 1992, centennial anniversary of Lizzie Borden killing her parents, and have somebody doing a copycat murder."

"Hmmm," Murdock said as he skimmed over the pages at first, "Interesting concept."

"Yeah, but so far the writing hasn't gotten anywhere," Jean said.

Murdock nodded as he noted handwritten notes in between the margins, most of them questions. "Looks like something Columbo would do," he noted, and read over some of the questions, " 'Why didn't anybody hear anything?' and, 'Assuming Lizzie was innocent, how could the real murderer get away unnoticed?' Well, they're good questions."

"You ever read about that case?" Jean asked him.

"Briefly, in school," he said, "About 100 years ago."

"Whole thing always struck me as a bit weird," Jean told him, "Some people have theories…there had been a man spending the night in the house before the murders…he left in the morning, maybe he came back…others say there was a police cab on the street that day…a lot of them seem to be dead ends. I was 13 when I first read about it, saw the pictures…" she shook her head, "Her face scared the hell out of me when I first saw her, she looked possessed…"

Murdock put the papers down and said to her, assuming, "But you think she did it."

"Definitely," Jean said, "No doubt about it. Prosecutors don't have to supply a motive, but juries do tend to love them, and they help the case make sense. You can _not_ hatchet 2 people to death with something like 11 and 19 blows without it being personal, and the stepmother got the most blows, that was definitely personal, and what's the first thing the big scary woman says when the police come? 'She's not my mother, my mother died years ago'. Personal indeed."

Murdock tried reading over the other margin notes but after a while they looked like doctor's handwriting, and even he could only decipher that so much. "What's the rest of this?" he asked.

"Well I got the idea to do this script after a particular question hit me," Jean told him, "If somebody _today_ were to axe two people to death in their private home, it would be easy to get away with. Nobody would hear anything, you'd have the privacy of the bathroom to wash up in, easy come, easy go…but 100 years ago you'd hear more than you would now, think about it, no TV, no radio, no cars, nothing to block out the noise…and it was August, hottest month of the year, no air conditioning or window fans either, you couldn't _not_ have the windows open…and the maid was right outside in the yard talking to the neighbor the whole time…how could they not have heard anything? I still haven't come up with an answer for that one yet."

"Good question though," Murdock agreed.

Jean pointed to another note, "And that one…that family lived poorly because the father was cheap…no bathroom, no indoor plumbing…everybody always said Lizzie couldn't have done it because she didn't have any blood on her or her clothing, so alright, assuming she didn't do it, how could _anybody_ leave without being covered in blood? And there were people all around that street, how could nobody see anything? Also consider there were only 2 ways somebody else could've gotten away, either they walked off, or they got a horse cab, either way somebody would see something if somebody caked in blood walked away from the house, there was a doctor right across the street from them."

Murdock looked at her with an impressed smirk on his face and he told her, "You're in the wrong business, darling, you shouldn't be in movies, you should be a detective."

She laughed, "Oh yeah I can just see that, me in an old raincoat everywhere I go 'oh, there's just one more thing, oh, I got one more question for ya'."

They both fell back against the pillows laughing, and Murdock said, "Boy they need to get some new detective shows on TV."

"They have them," Jean said, "Miami Vice, Magnum P.I."

"No-no-no, those are action shows," Murdock told her, "They're really _not_ about crimes at all, they're all about the high speed chases and the shootouts and the big fights."

"Kind of like a cartoon," Jean said.

Murdock laughed, "With all their violence? Good luck getting that one approved by the parent groups, though I'm sure plenty of kids are watching those programs regardless."

Jean laughed in response and then sighed as she leaned against him, "This is nice…I wish we could stay here."

He kissed her and replied, "I do too, darling…we'll come back here again, whenever we get some down time again…I get the feeling this is just the calm before the storm, I'm sure once we get back home we'll hit the ground running."

Jean pressed her head against his chest and told him, "It'll be the same way when we're married…"

"No, no," he shook his head, "I'll get something figured out…gonna get enough time squared away we can get married and then go off together _alone_, two weeks on a honeymoon with no interruptions, and where nobody can find us."

Jean laughed and said, "If that ever happens it'll be a wonder if we ever leave the room."

Murdock put one arm around her and said, "I told Hannibal we'd be back by tomorrow morning, we could stay here the rest of the day."

"And do what?" Jean asked, "You don't think people would be watching if we went back to the casino after last night's haul?"

"Well…we could always stay here," he told her, "I'll tell ya, Jean…it don't matter much to me _what_ we do when we're together…I'd be perfectly content to just stay here in bed with you like this for the rest of our lives…"

Jean smiled but shook her head, "That's not you, Murdock, you can't stay out of the sky."

"Well it's not you either but it's still nice while it lasts," he replied. He reached over with one hand and smoothed back some of her bangs and added, "Besides, things and people _do_ change…so I wouldn't say 'never' just yet."

Jean put her hands on her stomach and said, "All the changing in the world never undoes the past…what if we _did_ have a child, what could it possibly be like with us as its parents?"

"It would be just _fine_," Murdock told her as he slipped his arm around her waist.

Jean seemed to be deep in thought about something for a minute before responding, "Maybe if we got a surrogate."

"A _what_?" Murdock asked.

She looked to him and said, "You know, when they find a second woman to have the baby and then it's adopted out to the couple to pretend its their own."

"Now that's just cruel," Murdock told her.

"That depends on _why_ they do it," Jean replied.

"Uh," Murdock tapped her on the shoulder and asked her, "Who's the father when a surrogate mother has the baby?"

Jean just looked at him, her eyebrows raised and a hint of a smirk on her face. Murdock grimaced and said, "Now that's just disgusting, that's…that's infidelity by proxy, or something, I'm sure of it."

Jean just laughed at him in response.

Out of nowhere Murdock wrapped both arms around her waist and pulled her tighter against him and asked her, "What would you say if I said let's get married here tonight?"

Jean tilted her head back to look at him and replied, "With the honeymoon you've got in mind? You couldn't swing that much leave time and you know it."

Murdock shrugged, "Maybe not, but we could make it official tonight, go back, do it again for show and for everybody else's benefit, and _then_ take off for 2 weeks in the middle of nowhere."

"Murdock, I am _not_ honeymooning in Montana," Jean told him.

"Ha-ha," he remarked, "We _could_ pull it off, Jean, you know that, people from all over the country come to Vegas all the time to get married."

"And then they go to Reno to get divorced," Jean added, "I don't think it'd be a good idea."

Murdock shrugged again and said tiredly, "Alright…whatever you want to do."

She looked up at him and said, "This just doesn't feel like the right time to be jumping into marriage again…I'd be the first one screaming to elope but I think we owe it to Hannibal to let them be present for it this time."

Murdock smiled and rocked back with her and said, "You're a good'un, darling, always so considerate of the others."

"Suppose it's only right after all the stuff I pulled with them in the beginning," she responded.

* * *

That night Murdock had returned to the casino, he and Jean had checked out of their hotel room and were going to fly back to Los Angeles tonight, but first he decided to poke his head in for a few minutes for a little more fun before it was time to leave. As usual the place was crowded and every table was packed with people looking to get rich quick on one lucky game. He didn't know why they called New York the city that never sleeps, it seemed to him that Las Vegas had its own insomniac corner on the market.

He took a step back, turned on his heel and just about collided with a young woman, he started to apologize and found himself momentarily tripping over his tongue. The woman was very young, possibly early to mid 20s and looked like a showgirl in training, she had long blonde hair and was dressed in a very short glittering blue 2-piece outfit, and very high heels he also noted before bringing his eyes up again.

"Excuse me," he said sheepishly.

"No problem," she said, and then her eyes lit up, "Aren't you the man who hit it big at the roulette table last night?"

"Oh I guess I could be," he said.

She smiled at him and said, "Everybody's been talking about you."

"Oh yeah?" he asked with a little amusement, "Have they been talking about my wife too?"

The woman's smile disappeared almost completely, "You're married?"

"Oh yes," he said with a big smile.

The woman nodded slightly and said, "Congratulations," and was on her way.

Murdock watched her go and said, making his face twitch to imitate that of an old lady's, "She's a _good_ girl," and nodded to himself.

It wasn't long before he encountered another woman at the casino who knew him by his reputation as the big winner from the night before. This one was a slightly older looking brunette who was dressed in a black low cut halter top and looked like she definitely had a receipt for how it fit her so well. As she tried chatting it up with him, Murdock happened to glance down and noticed that he wasn't wearing his silver band…that must've been what was going on, or so he thought.

When he saw an opportunity arise, he said to the woman, "I really don't plan to stick around long tonight to try again, I was just looking for my wife."

"Oh really?" the woman asked without even blinking, "You been married long?"

Hmmm, Murdock could tell this one was going to be a little harder to deal with. As far as she knew, he was married and it wasn't deterring her one bit from trying to sink her hooks into him. He decided to try upping the ante and seeing if it had any effect on her.

"Oh sure, must be about 10 years now, we got three cute little kids with their grandparents at home back in Baltimore," he said, sticking his arm out to emphasize around how tall the children were.

"Well isn't that nice?" the woman asked as she put a hand on the front of his T-shirt and slowly it made its way up to his chest, "Must be nice getting away from it all for the time being."

"Well not _quite_ everything," Murdock reminded her, "My wife is still here with me."

"Hmmm," the woman said as she gave him a mischievous cat's smirk and wink and said, "And what's your wife like?"

Oh boy this was getting too weird even for him. Murdock was almost sure even if he _wasn't_ currently attached to a woman, that he wouldn't be too hot on the attention he was getting from this one either. His Decker bell wasn't going off, but he was still getting a bad vibe from her. Somehow he was getting the feeling that this woman wouldn't be opposed to all three of them going upstairs together. He decided to put all his chips in and go for broke before Jean actually showed up. With a charming smile and a pleasant tone he told the woman, "Oh she's a real darling…course if she caught us together like this she'd probably rip your arm off and beat you to death with it."

As if a snake had lunged out to bite her, the woman took her hand off his chest and instead reached up and straightened his jacket collar and said, "Sorry to trouble you, sir," and she too strolled off.

Murdock took a step back and felt his shirt where she'd touched him, as if he was trying to contain a dangerous insect that had landed on him, and with a little enthusiasm he said to himself in a poor imitation of an Irish priest, "There may be hope for that one too."

He decided he'd stuck around long enough and would be leaving now, he picked up his suitcase and headed for the exit. He'd managed to get out to the curb and tried hailing a taxi when he felt a gun pressed against the back of his head.

"Don't move," a low raspy voice said to him.

Ah ha, he knew something was up, go figure it couldn't be something more original than a stickup job.

"Hand over the suitcase," the man told him.

Murdock shrugged and held it back so the other man could grab it. "Go ahead," he said, "But I don't think you want it."

"Shut up," a second man said as he took the grip.

"Okay," Murdock said as he grabbed the sky.

Behind him, one of the thugs opened the heavy suitcase, but instead of finding the money in it they found Jean's video camera and the pages for her screenplay.

"What the hell is this?" the second man asked.

"I told you you wouldn't want it," Murdock said innocently.

Just as he involuntarily flinched and closed his eyes as he waited for the gunshot, he heard a very familiar and unwanted voice call out, "Freeze! Drop your weapons!"

Oh no.

"Cops!?" the first man asked as he and his partner dropped their guns and reached for the sky.

"United States Army," Decker said as he and Crane stepped out from the shadows at the corner of the block.

Murdock heard somebody running to him from the other side and he turned and saw who it was, "Jean!"

"Murdock," Decker noted as he was able to see the holdup victim in the light now.

"Decker!" Jean exclaimed in disbelief.

Of course it would make too much sense to explain to Decker that the rest of the A-Team weren't with them, and it would make too much sense for him to actually listen and believe it, so Jean and Murdock took off running with the colonel and the captain behind them. They ran from one side of the street to the other and about knocked down a dozen other people in the process. Murdock and Jean disappeared into a casino and Decker and Crane followed after them, the four of them ran through the casino and not a single person looked up from the tables to even notice. Murdock grabbed Jean and led her out of the main room and into another room behind a closed door, Decker and Crane followed and a bunch of screaming ensued as they realized they'd run into the showgirls' dressing room, and a few seconds later the two men in green were thrown out of the room.

Meanwhile Murdock and Jean managed to make an emergency exit out of a window and ran back towards the street just as a taxi pulled up. Murdock gave the driver the directions to get them out of there and they managed to do so just before Decker and Crane exited the casino.

"What the hell are they doing here?" Jean asked Murdock.

"Who knows?" he replied, "Maybe he got another false tip about Hannibal working out here as a stunt man."

They reached the airport where Murdock had left the plane, and with specific instructions for it to be refueled and in tiptop running shape before they left. With their meager luggage in hand, they ran up the steps and had a few words with the people who had seen to everything in getting it ready for the sky once again. Then the stairs were removed, the door was shut, Murdock got the plane started and in a few minutes they were homeward bound.

"What a night," Jean said.

"What a weekend," he corrected.

"Well, I better make sure our cargo got on unharmed," Jean said as she undid her seat belt.

Murdock waited for her to return and a few minutes later she came back to the cockpit with a large Styrofoam cooler that had been taped shut and had a white fog escaping from the cracks in the lid.

"Dry ice, nice touch," Murdock said.

"Well, we had to make it look convincing, didn't we?" Jean asked as she took out a knife and cut through the tape, "Who's going to think of looking for 25 grand in a cooler that's supposed to be carrying 20 pounds of coconut shrimp."

"What'd you weigh it down with though?" Murdock asked.

Jean balanced the cooler on her lap and tilted it to show Murdock her new dumbbells in with the cash, which in and of itself hardly even weighed one pound put together.

Murdock smirked and said, "I like how you think."

"You should," she replied, "It was _your_ idea to switch the money out of the suitcase."

Murdock laughed and told Jean, "Alright, we got a little time before we get back home so while we're up here, I'm going to start teaching you how to fly one of these babies, should the need to know it ever arise."

Jean closed up the cooler and said, "Oh come on, Murdock."

"No no, I'm serious, I already got you flying choppers, I can get you flying this bird as well…it'll just be like before, a little maneuvering here and there, one night and the next, you'll do fine, I'm sure of it."

"One of us had better be," Jean commented.

* * *

"Decker was out in Vegas?" Hannibal asked as he paced around Jean and Murdock's bedroom when they'd gotten back that night and had him come over to hear the news.

"And I doubt he was there to check out the Strip," Jean told him, "They were both as usual in their alien clothes."

"What?" Murdock turned to her.

Jean looked at him annoyed and said, "Little _green_ men."

"Oh!" Murdock replied.

Hannibal checked his watch and noted, "With the way Decker has Crane drive, it shouldn't take them any time to get back to Los Angeles. I wonder what they're up to?"

"Where's he going to start looking though?" Jean asked, "It's almost midnight."

"Good point, he may wait until tomorrow to start the hunt again," Hannibal said.

Murdock's choice of response was to throw his head back and howl like a beagle.

"He's got a point," Jean told him.

Hannibal scratched the back of his head and said, "He'll probably start at the studio first, as usual…"

"Of course," Jean said, "The man's not very original."

Hannibal looked at the two of them seated on the bed and noted they both looked about ready to drop and he assured them, "I doubt he'll be making any house calls here tonight, why don't you two go on to bed? You look beat."

"I have a good excuse for that," Jean told him with a sarcastic smirk on her face, "I haven't been sleeping well again…I had another dream being back in that freezer last night." She half closed her eyes and scratched her scalp, "Keep going over that night's events starting from when they smashed their way in…" she snapped her eyes open and turned to Murdock and jabbed him in the back of the head and kept saying, "Hey" to get his attention. Finally Murdock turned to her to see what it was she wanted and she asked him, "Hey, _who_ was that idiot on TV that said as long as you were in your own home, there wasn't anything to be afraid of?"

"I don't know, I suffer from intermittent memory loss," Murdock replied.

Jean rolled her eyes and huffed. Hannibal chuckled watching them both, then he went over to the bed, and taking them both by surprise he leaned over and kissed them both and told them, "We'll figure out what Decker's up to tomorrow, until then…goodnight."

"See ya, Hannibal," Jean waved him off as he left the bedroom and showed himself the way out.

After he had gone, Jean picked up a pair of tongs and used them to fish into the cooler with and remove the bag they'd placed the money in and take it out of the dry ice that was still taking its sweet time to melt.

"$25,000, only question that remains is what're we going to do with it?" Jean asked him as she dropped the bag on the bed near him.

"Well I got one idea what we can do with it," Murdock said as he grinned like a naughty little boy.

"Yeah, but the idea is we still want to be able to spend it after rolling through it," Jean pointed out.

Murdock playfully scowled at her, then laughed and embraced her.

"I say first thing we do tomorrow is go out and restock the freezer," Jean told him, "We got one roast in that big chest freezer dying all over again from loneliness."

"Good idea," Murdock nodded, "And tomorrow night we're going to eat like royalty."

"What, caviar and champagne?" Jean asked cynically.

"No, big T-bone sticks three inches thick, big slab of ribs barbecued on the grill outside."

Jean nodded, "It's a plan, I like the way you think."

* * *

"Hannibal," Jean said to the Colonel the next day as she paced around his bedroom, "I think you guys need to look into the trucks that deliver for those generic grocery chains again."

"What's going on now?" he asked.

"We were finally able to go out and pick up some food to restock the freezer and the refrigerator," Jean said, "First time in a couple of months really…only surprise surprise," she shook her head, "Half the shelves are empty again, apparently they have been for a few weeks again."

Hannibal looked at the two of them and asked, knowing pretty well how meagerly the two of them had been eating lately since they were trying to recover from the sudden expenses they'd wound up having to pay over the last few months, "Were you…"

"We were able to get enough stuff to run on, we got about 30 pounds of meat in the freezer," Jean answered, "That's not the problem…the problem is there are a lot of people who for about a month haven't been able to get a lot of staples: butter, bread, eggs, baking mixes, canned vegetables, cereal, canned meat, soup, pasta, it's all very slim pickings, they're only able to restock each time to about one fourth of the inventory they're supposed to have. Now last time you said it was just because the trucks were old and the coolers weren't working…nobody at the store is saying _what's_ going on, but I don't buy that that's what's happening again."

Hannibal thought about what she said and nodded then shook his head, "Neither do I." He shrugged his shoulders and said, "Alright…we'll go see if we can find out what it's all about."

"Hannibal," Jean said to him, "It might be more than that…I've also noticed that this time a lot of the brand name food is gone too, at first I figured," she shrugged her shoulders, "That's what everybody buys, it's always in short supply because it's very popular, but what if their trucks suddenly aren't coming through either, what does that mean?"

"We'll have to look into it and find out," he answered, "Come on, we'll go get B.A. and Face and pay the warehouse another visit."

Hannibal left the room first, Murdock started to follow after but Jean grabbed him by his jacket and jerked him back.

"Yes?" he asked her.

"I just had a thought," Jean told him, "You know this would be the smartest move a terrorist ever made."

"What?" Murdock asked.

"No I mean it, instead of hijacking planes and trains and blowing them up, and taking people hostage, if they want to terrorize this country their best bet would be to commandeer the food supplies so there aren't any…that or let them make delivery, but intercept the cargo and contaminate it or poison it somewhere between points A and B…but think about it, if something happens to all the food in the stores, the _only_ people who are going to be left alive are the farmers, the ones who grow their own…"

Murdock looked at her with a puzzled expression on his face as he seemed to consider that thought, then dismissed it and told her, "Maybe I was wrong the first time, maybe you _should_ stick with writing, you could come up with some good political thrillers."

Jean lightly punched him in the shoulder and they followed after Hannibal.


	13. Chapter 13

They'd piled into the van and drove out to speak with the people at one of the warehouses for the generic chain that had been experiencing problems delivering lately. They pulled up and found eight semis in the parking lot all being loaded up to take out soon, and upon inspecting the hauls themselves, found that each one was loaded to the gills. Hannibal, Face and B.A. had gone to speak with the truck drivers who were still in the process of loading up and then moving out. Jean and Murdock got in the cab of one of the trucks to make sure nothing had or would happen to it and waited for the others to join them. They had the windows down but it was still hot that day and Jean was about asleep from the heat, though she couldn't stop babbling in her near-sleep.

She started laughing and commented to Murdock, "Wouldn't it be funny if they had a driver with the last name Driver? Like Digby Driver…no not like Digby Driver, he wasn't a driver, he was a reporter…"

"What're you talking about, Jean?" he asked.

"Digby Driver, man who wrote about the dogs with bubonic plague, only they didn't have it," she slurred as she tilted her head back and seemed to go completely out.

Murdock didn't get it and didn't even bother trying, he just shrugged to himself and said, "Bad dreams." And for all he knew it could very well have been, he knew that Jean hadn't gotten much sleep the night before, and he also knew that she was up earlier than usual this morning. Anymore she reached a point where if she went to sleep, upon awakening she couldn't even tell what time it was, what day it was, if it was morning or evening, or half the time even _where_ she was.

He looked out the window and saw the others coming back and he slapped Jean's shoulder to wake her up. He opened the door and they got out to see what was going on.

"So let me see if I get this straight," Hannibal said to one of the drivers as they came back to the semi, "Somebody's been holding you guys up in the middle of the road and making off with the food, and they're all dressed in black and drive a black van?"

"Not a van," the man replied, "Bigger…like a bread truck."

"Ah-huh," Hannibal said half dismissively.

"You don't believe us?"

"Did you report the thefts to the police?" Face asked.

"They didn't believe it," the driver told him, "They thought we took it ourselves and tried to cover it up, even when our bosses backed us up they didn't buy it."

"Well the economy's bad but I can't see the drivers making off with…come to think of it, Face, what kind of a haul did these guys get?" Hannibal asked.

"Uh well, let me see," Face ripped the top paper off a clipboard he'd been writing on and said, "I estimate that altogether these guys have made off with about 10 gross of eggs, 50 pounds of butter, 80 loaves of bread, probably about 20 cases of canned soup, canned pasta and canned vegetables, also 30 boxes of baking mixes, 80 pounds of rice, 1 case of canned tuna, a dozen cases of soda, at least 50 pounds of potatoes, also 15 pounds of bacon, about…300 hot dogs…"

"What? No ketchup?" Murdock asked, and shook his head disapprovingly.

"The list just goes on, Hannibal…I'm not sure, altogether we're probably looking at at least $10,000 worth of inventory lost," Face said.

"Which means what, at least about $15,000 worth in profits lost?" Jean asked.

"Let me see that list," Hannibal said. He took it and read over it and noted, "Nothing frozen…there's 80 gallons of milk stolen, 200 sticks of butter, 1,440 eggs gone…nothing that needs to be kept frozen…"

"Not a whole lot of produce either," Face noted, "Most of the fresh stuff can either be eaten raw or wouldn't take much to cook."

"Most of this stuff in general wouldn't take much to cook," Jean told Hannibal, "It's mostly just-add-water; canned soup, pancake mix, rice…stuff that either _can_ be fixed and eaten quickly or has to be."

"Other than that it's a whole lot of canned stuff," Murdock added, "Maybe it's somebody preparing for a nuclear war."

"Whatever it is," Hannibal said, "It doesn't sound like they're doing this for a profit…a bread truck they could make off with far more than they're getting each time..." he turned back to the driver and asked, "How long do the robberies usually take?"

"About five minutes, they send someone to run out in the street knowing we can't stop, so we swerve to avoid them, we go off the road, about crash, and then up they come, lift open the back, grab whatever's closest to the door, and then take off."

"With you at gunpoint naturally," Hannibal said.

"Naturally," the driver replied, "They don't get enough that the stores have to go without completely, but to compensate for the loss everybody's gotta get less, that's why the stores keep running out. We can't figure out how they work but they know _our_ schedule…we distribute throughout the tri-state area, we drive nights to make our time…always most dangerous driving at night, no lights, we can't see what's up ahead as well as in the daytime, so of _course_ when someone comes running across the lanes we freak out, and they know it…"

"And at night you wouldn't be able to make out the plate on the truck," Hannibal noted.

"Assuming there is one, who can tell?" the driver asked, "But it's not just us, other chains have gotten hit too, and they operate on a day to afternoon scheduling route more than we do."

"Have you all been robbed more than once since this started?" he asked.

"Every driver's been hit at least twice, but you can't get ahead of it because we've been back and loaded up and gone out about a dozen times between them," the driver said, "We're hoping that since we recently got hit again, that they won't get us this time."

"About how many are there?" Face asked, "The crooks I mean."

"I think five, but I don't know."

Hannibal thought it all over and told the driver, "We're going to need you to show us your exact route, and which one you were on the last time you got hit."

"You really think you're gonna catch these people?" he asked.

Hannibal turned to him with an indifferent look on his face and asked the man, "Why not? Somebody somewhere ought to remember seeing a black bread truck with a bunch of ninjas in it."

"True, that's _not_ something you ordinarily see every day," Murdock agreed, "Even _I_ don't…"

"Shut up you crazy fool," B.A. warned him.

"B.A.," Hannibal turned to the Sergeant and started to say, "You've been unusually quiet since we got here."

"How can you tell?" Jean asked.

Hannibal ignored her and asked B.A., "What do you think about it all?"

B.A. shook his head, "Don't like it, Hannibal…anybody know the route of these trucks, they've been laying in wait for quite a while to get that figured out, and every time."

"All seems a little unusual for the kind of cargo they're making off with," Face agreed.

Jean didn't say anything but she scratched her head and tried to keep her eyes open as she quietly pondered a few questions pertaining to the matter at hand. No frozen food taken in any of these heists, why? All food that could or had to be consumed within a short amount of time, again, why? And who? And how come? Looking at the others, she could tell by their faces that they were thinking about the exact same things, as well as how they were going to catch the people responsible to find out.

* * *

"Hannibal says that this whole fine mess is further stretched out than we thought," Murdock said to Jean as he flopped down beside her on the bed, "Going to take a while to figure out exactly what we're going to do. He wants to figure out who would be the best candidate to go in place of, the morning route for one place, or the graveyard shift for the other warehouse. It doesn't seem to make much difference, daytime, nighttime, always the same thing, somebody runs out in front of the truck, the men in black come out, spend 5 minutes grabbing whatever they can, and then getting away."

"Mm-hmm," Jean tiredly replied, refusing to open her eyes.

"Are you listening to me?" he asked her.

"Mm-mm," Jean shook her head.

"That's what I thought," Murdock said with a laugh, he leaned over and kissed her and groaned, "I wish you wouldn't stay up half the night at that old typewriter."

"I moved it downstairs so the noise wouldn't keep you awake," Jean said as she forced her eyes open.

"That's not the problem," Murdock told her, "It's no good you staying up until 3 A.M. every night."

"Who're you telling?" Jean asked, "Every time I try a different angle for this script I just wind up ripping it all to shreds anyway…everybody in the movie business knows how it works, just like everything else you enter the business at the very bottom, and you work your way up to a higher position that you _earned_ by doing whatever came along in the beginning. I've paid my debts to the bottom rung, I've taken swan dives off second story balconies, I've rolled and flipped in cars never meant for crashing, I've done the 'furniture that talks' bit, I've done the extras gig, I've done all of that, I've _earned_ the right to be in charge of something now…I want my name credited to something more than just stunt work and background extras."

Murdock reached over and squeezed her shoulder lightly and said, "Maybe Hannibal could help you figure something out, he _does_ have experience in the movie field you know."

"Sure, as a giant rubber lizard," Jean said.

"He does more than that," Murdock told her.

Jean turned over and slammed her head against his stomach as she tried going back to sleep. But it was no use. She opened her eyes and grumbled, "Murdock?"

"Yes, darling?" he asked as he looked down at her.

"How do you know…how do you think you can tell the difference in if you're just having a dream…or if you have an out of body experience? How do you know when a dream's just a dream, or if it means something?" she asked him.

Murdock didn't ask why she wanted to know, all he said was, "I told you I didn't want you working on that stuff so late…" he pointed over to the half dozen or so books scattered over the trunk and said, "You read all the gory details before you go to bed, and then you dream about it all night."

She shook her head, "That's not it…you hear about people who dream and are able to accurately see things and people and places they've never seen before…you think there's truth to that? It has to be, right? How could people fake it? But how do you suppose it's decided who _will_ be able to do that, and who won't?"

Murdock cupped his hands over her temples and kissed her on her forehead and said, "Just like anything else, some people have it and some don't…there's no way to pinpoint it."

"I always wondered as a kid…seems the people who are able to do those things never want to be able to…I always wanted to be able to do something like that, never could…I suppose it's like having children, the ones who want them can't have them, and the ones who don't want any get a dozen of them," Jean said, "You think it's something they're born with or something they grow into? Or just something that could come and go at any time without warning or reason?"

Bit by bit Murdock was getting used to these conversations. Part of it he attributed to the simple matter that he was the only person Jean knew who actually believed in this stuff; he knew that feeling of being the outsider, the only one who understood when the others, even his nearest and dearest friends, didn't or couldn't or wouldn't understand it. It was a hard thing to put up with at times but he'd just learned to accept the others as they were for not being in tune with all the things he was. It was a bit discouraging to be in the company of so many people who didn't get it, who couldn't even acknowledge the possibility that there was more than just what they could see and scrutinize and rationalize, but he'd just had to put up with the others' imperfections in that regard.

More things in Heaven and Earth and all that. He wondered more than once just how much of this went back to when Brutus was alive in her. She had healed from the ordeals she suffered at that time, physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually, or so he'd thought. Of course he knew some things would always linger and remain, no matter how trace they were. Still, he knew, he could tell, every day when he looked at Jean he could tell, the danger of her reverting back to her old ways, her old self, her created persona that became her stability and her protection, all long past and dead and buried. But there would always be something that remained, always something to remind her, and again Murdock knew he was the only one who could truly understand what Jean was going through. They'd all seen their shares of war…but it had affected them both the same, and all differently.

So maybe that was what brought these kinds of conversations about. Maybe, but he didn't know. He'd always wondered how most men thought after being in war. More specifically, their beliefs about death and what comes after death, how much did that change before and after being in war? Or did it change? How many maintained the same beliefs they had when they returned home from before they left? The dead stayed in your head, in a sense still living on, but that wasn't the same as if they actually returned from the realm of the dead, if they were reincarnated as something or somebody else, or if their spirits returned to haunt the places and the people involved with their deaths. And these were just the tip of the iceberg on how many unexplained phenomena occurred in the world that mankind had questioned since time began. Then there was also like Jean said, out of body experiences, that was something else altogether, but Murdock always believed that all of these things were somehow connected as well.

"Something on your mind, darling?" he asked.

"No more than usual," she said, "Just my typical overactive mind questioning everything like it always does…what we know, what we think we know, and what we have to find out…all that good stuff." She pushed off on her hand and got up on her knees and said to him, "Like…the people that said God talks directly to them…how would you know if that's right? Would you know? Would it be something that you couldn't possibly mistake? Or what if you only thought it happened? If you imagined it or dreamed it, how would you know the difference?"

And _these_ were the questions that were _especially_ hard to answer when medications were thrown into the mix, when that happened you couldn't tell if something was real, imagined, or a hallucinogenic side effect. Here he could understand her confusion very well. All the same, for as amazingly lucid as Jean was, he pushed her down lightly and told her, "I think you need to try getting some more sleep."

Jean closed her eyes and nodded and said, "I think you're right…if Decker manages to catch us, I want to be nice and coherent when I do my incoherent nut job act for him."

Murdock pulled the covers back and Jean crawled underneath and asked him, "So what do you think Hannibal's plan is going to be?"

"You know _what_ it's going to be," Murdock told her as he got them both tucked in for the night, "It's just a matter of which company's truck we're going to take for the bait."

Jean could barely keep her eyes open, but she managed to bring her head up and scratched her hair as she said to Murdock, "I still can't figure out the answer…what's it all mean? What's it all about? Why're these people, whoever they are, only stealing the food that they are? Hannibal's right, none of the trucks hit were carrying anything frozen, why not? And why haven't they taken more? What's it all mean?"

"We'll get it figured out, we always do," Murdock assured her as he reached over and turned off the light.

* * *

Hannibal had made the rounds the next morning of getting everybody out of bed, up and at 'em by 5 A.M.; Jean would've been content to stay at home since she knew they didn't need her for Hannibal's plan, but Murdock didn't want her staying home by herself when he knew she'd be spending the day in bed to make up for the sleep she'd been losing the past few nights. Hannibal had allowed Jean to come since he didn't think any of them would _really_ be in much danger and Jean could stay in the van and sleep. They piled in and made the trip out to one of the chain warehouses in Arizona to take place of the drivers for one of the trucks.

"Hannibal," Murdock spoke up halfway out there, "It would've taken a lot less time if we could've just flown, I could have us landed already if we'd had a plane."

B.A. looked at Murdock's reflection in the rear mirror and warned him, "You try getting me on a plane you crazy fool and I'm gonna flatten your face."

Jean had been stretched out in the back between Face and Murdock, using Murdock largely as a pillow, with her feet pressed against Face's side of the backseat, they thought she'd been asleep, but after B.A.'s empty threat, she started laughing, but it wasn't her normal laugh and it took them all by surprise and scared the hell out of them.

She managed to force her eyes open and said to B.A., "You can't do that, he's not Flat Face, he's Snitter, they cut his head open and put a mouse inside, mouse never shuts up and he makes everything upside down…that's why he always babbles on in complete nonsense, that's why he's always jibber-jabbering…haven't you noticed? Can't you smell it? They _all_ smell like that when they've been operated on," she continued to laugh sickeningly before collapsing back against Murdock and falling back asleep.

"Murdock," Hannibal turned in his seat to see the pilot, "Is she currently on any medications?"

"Just tired, Colonel, I'm sure once she's able to get some more sleep she'll be alright," he answered.

Hannibal nodded uncertainly and said only, "If you say so."

"You know, Murdock, it may be cheating but if she went without sleep long enough she could probably steal your title for craziest person we know," Face told him.

"Hmmmm," Murdock seemed to consider that possibility.

"Looks like it's going to be a long trip," Face said as he dug out the daily paper and started to read it, "And I have a feeling before it's over everybody's going to be on their last nerve."

Hannibal glanced back and noticed the way Face had his face buried in the paper and asked him, "Anything interesting, Lieutenant?"

"Just the usual stuff they use to sell these papers, sports…sex and crime, America's favorite pastimes," Face said, "Looks like home invasions are on the rise."

"Oh yeah?" Hannibal asked.

"All over the state…must be some new craze, they bust in, beat the people up, leave, but they don't seem to take anything," Face said.

"Green Berets," Jean slurred in her sleep.

Hannibal and Face looked to her, and to the pilot who was holding onto her, Murdock just shrugged and said, "Even I don't know that one."

"No point waking her up to find out either," Hannibal said, "Let her sleep, maybe then we'll be able to understand what she's saying."

* * *

Using some shortcuts they'd encountered from years of traveling, within a couple of hours they were already in Arizona and nearing the warehouse where the trucks were preparing to roll out, when Hannibal noticed something up ahead.

"Hey B.A., do you see what I see?" he asked.

The three people in the backseat also took notice of his question, Jean opened her eyes, wide awake and alert now, and straightened herself in her seat.

"Looks like a black van," Murdock said, "The size of a bread truck."

"Well," Hannibal said with a smirk, "This might work out better than we planned…" he turned to the Sergeant and told him, "Alright B.A., hit it."

B.A. stomped on the accelerator and as the needle on the speedometer climbed high, they managed to catch up with the truck, but whoever was in it caught on to the fact that they had company and swerved the truck to the left to smash into the van.

"They're crazy whatever they are," B.A. said.

Face dug his nails into the headrest of the seat in front of him as the van swerved again. He knew it went without saying but all the same he felt a need to comment, "These vehicles are too big to be playing bumper cars with."

"B.A. watch out!" Murdock lunged over the front seat and jerked the wheel hard to the left.

"Hey man!" B.A. managed to get out before he saw why Murdock had done that, there was somebody standing in the road ahead of them and probably would've been hit if they hadn't swerved off to the side.

Unfortunately they swerved so far they went right off the road and down a rocky dirt path, the van toppled downward at an iffy angle for a few seconds but managed to land upright, everybody slammed forward and then back in their seats as they came to a final stop.

"Everybody okay?" Hannibal asked as he turned to look behind him.

"Yeah I think so," Face said.

"Alright, everybody grab a gun and let's move out and see what's going on," Hannibal said.

"Me too?" Jean asked.

"Yeah, come on," he said.

The doors opened and everybody jumped out and headed back up onto the deserted road where the truck had also suddenly stopped. They didn't see anybody around but proceeded with caution, they managed to reach the truck without anybody stopping them; Face grabbed the handle of the driver side door and threw it open, there wasn't anybody in there.

"They're gone," he said.

Hannibal and B.A. went around to the back and pushed the door up and Hannibal announced, "But the food's still here."

He climbed in with his rifle at hand and inspected the crates in the truck. He opened them up just to make sure, and as he suspected, there wasn't anything in the crates besides the food they were supposed to carry. This time it looked like whoever had pulled off the heist got away with a lot of bread, potatoes, flour, powdered milk, and canned soup.

"I don't get it," Hannibal said as he hopped out of the truck, "What's it all about?"

"And where'd everybody go?" Face asked.

He got his answer when he heard several guns being cocked right behind them. He slowly turned around and they all saw that they were surrounded by seven people all dressed in black with hooded masks on, and they all had Uzi carbines and AKMs pointed straight at them.

"Drop your weapons," one of the figures in black told them.

The others looked to Hannibal, who slowly nodded and dropped his rifle, the others reluctantly followed suit and put their hands up.

One of the hooded figures came to the front and looked at the A-Team, and then back to the other people in black, and turning to the front again, he reached up with his free hand and pulled off his mask, revealing that it was a woman, a Vietnamese woman.

"What the?"

They looked as the six other people also pulled off their masks, and revealed they were all Vietnamese men, all seeming to be somewhere in their 30s.

"Oh great," Face couldn't help groaning, "How's this for irony?"

"Oh brother," Jean added.


	14. Chapter 14

The woman looked at them all one by one, and then finally she asked them, "Who are you?"

Hannibal didn't feel like beating around the bush on this one so he said plainly, "We're the A-Team, and who are you?"

The woman didn't directly answer his question, responding only with, "What's your business here?"

Hannibal nodded his head towards the truck, "That van making off with thousands of dollars of stolen food for one, would you care to explain that one?"

Jean didn't like making eye contact with any of the people so instead she looked down and when she did, she noticed that the woman's black pants were torn on the side high up on her thigh, and she also noticed a small tattoo.

"Hey Hannibal, look!" she said.

The woman looked at her, and Hannibal looked where Jean was signaling to, and the others saw what he saw, the woman had VC tattooed on her leg.

"Funny," Hannibal said, "You don't look like any of the Cong soldiers we encountered."

The woman laughed proudly and told him, "Not Viet-Cong…it's my name."

"Boy _that's_ a cruel thing to do to a kid," Face murmured to Murdock.

"My name is Virginia Claire Trang," the woman told them cockily as she kept her Uzi aimed at them, and with a coy look she gestured to the men with her and added, "These are my brother, say hello…that's Jason, Tommy, Jimmy, Lee, Stephen, and Jackie."

"I see," Hannibal said, "Well you all seem to have us at a disadvantage, not only are we outnumbered, but we are unarmed…" he flashed one of his more familiar smiles and said to the woman, "Now don't you think we can settle this like adults," he gestured to her gun, "Without weapons?"

She lowered her gun but only so the aim was repositioned to blow a hole in his stomach if he tried anything, and she asked him, "What reason have we to trust you?"

"Oh I don't know," Hannibal said as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other and drew one leg up enough to stand on his toes, "Probably because if you're _not_ Viet-Cong, and you would've been too young at the time of the war _to_ be, then we have no quarrel with you. We merely came out here to investigate the holdups that have been plaguing the grocery trucks."

"And what business is it of yours?" Virginia asked.

"Oh it's a funny habit we have," Face said, "We like to eat."

"And I don't think you're actually going to use those weapons on us," Hannibal said, "Otherwise you would've shot those drivers when you held them up, and made off with a larger haul than you did, or even the whole truck…so what do you say we quit playing this stand off game and get to know each other better?"

She seemed to actually consider it, she turned to her brothers and gave a nod, but instead of dropping their own weapons, they only slung them over their shoulders.

"Alright, let's talk," Virginia told Hannibal, "Who are you and what's your business here?"

"I'm Hannibal Smith, that's B.A. Baracus, Templeton Peck, Captain H.M. Murdock, and this is a friend of ours, Jean Rhodes."

"You already know who we are," Virginia told him.

"And speaking of which," Jean poked Murdock in his shoulder and said half under her breath, "Far be it for me to sound rude, but ain't those kind of odd names for Vietnamese people?"

"Not for Vietnamese Americans," Virginia told them, "We're not immigrants who got out when Saigon fell, our father left North Vietnam in the 50s, came to America, married American woman, raised us as Americans…"

"I was wondering where Cong soldiers learned a Brooklyn accent," Jean noted.

"How…how did he get out?" Face asked.

"Very smart man, he had himself shipped out in a crate marked 'Return to Sender', at least that's what he always told us," Virginia said with half a smirk, "He always did have a _weird_ sense of humor, the kind nobody else laughed at."

"So noted," Hannibal said, "Next question, _why_ did he come here?"

She scowled at him and asked, "Why not come here? Isn't that what they say when you come into the harbor, 'give us your tired, your poor, your huddled masses', tired and poor is something universal, people always say 'Come to America, live the American dream, land of opportunities'," she shrugged, "Our father didn't trust Ho Chi Minh, apparently he saw what others didn't see, he wanted out before things got bad and he knew they would. In July 1950, the Americans came over to be advisors, and that's when he started thinking…if the Americans could come to Vietnam, then he could go to America, fair exchange."

Face shrugged and coyly remarked, "Hard to argue with that logic."

"So you all just lived here your whole lives?" Murdock asked.

"Oh yeah," Virginia said with a huff, and pointed to herself, "I was firstborn…got stuck raising these six imbeciles part time to help out our parents…30 years later I'm _still_ stuck leading everything single handedly."

"Uh…" Face tried to figure out how to ask his question without sounding like an idiot, "Exactly _how_ did you all grow up in this country without drawing attention to yourselves?"

"Haven't you heard what they say about Montana?" Jimmy asked, "There's nobody there…_lot_ of room to live unnoticed, off the radar, nobody knows."

"You don't say," Face replied.

"And uh…where are your folks now?" Hannibal asked.

"Dead, they died a few years ago," Virginia told him.

"I see," he replied, "So now that we've gotten all of that established, maybe you could explain to us what you're doing sticking up those trucks."

She glared at him and egged him on, "Why, what're you going to do, report us to the police?"

Murdock scoffed and snorted and said, "You clearly don't know us very well, do you?"

"She said they come from Montana," Jean told Murdock, "It'd be a wonder if they even know what the A-Team _is_."

"Shh," he remarked.

"Why did you come after us?" Virginia asked them.

"Like we said, the trucks," Hannibal said, "Maybe you're not familiar with our work, we take the cases, help the people, that nobody else can or will, the police especially. Bunch of truckers report somebody holding them up and making off with thousands of dollars worth of their haul, and the public starts going hungry because the store shelves are empty…we start to get curious."

"And," Jean added as she gave them all a look up and down and noted that they were pretty thin, "It doesn't look like you're taking it all for yourselves, so what's the real answer?"

"Like I said," Virginia told Hannibal, "They say 'give us your tired, your poor', but what happens when they actually show up? Then it's suddenly a different story…"

"Look, I get that times are hard for everyone," Hannibal said, "But you crossed into felony territory about $9,500 worth of groceries back."

"The law doesn't care if people are starving to death, all they care about is that you pay on time, everything else is secondary," Virginia told him, and thrust her shoulders out as she asked him, "That the Christian generosity everybody always preaches?"

"Except if you're stealing from the chain warehouses, that'd put you more in Robin Hood's region," Face said.

"Or maybe the James Boys," Jean added, "Stealing back the money the banks stole from everybody else."

The man Virginia had identified as her brother Tommy came forward and looked Jean up and down, she returned the favor and when she did, she noticed something.

"Hannibal," she said and jerked her head towards him, "I think I know this guy."

"How?" Hannibal asked as they came over to her.

"Pull up his sleeve, I believe he's got a tattoo on his forearm," Jean said.

"Don't bother," Tommy said, and he rolled up his left sleeve himself, revealing a small plain black ink tattoo, like his sister, his was made up of only two letters, except his were LZ.

"Landing Zone," Murdock said, "Y'all got a strange sense of humor."

"It's our humor, _and_ our heritage," Virginia told him dryly, "We'll have the fun with both that we see fit, the lives we had we need all the laughs we can get."

"How'd you know he had a tattoo?" Hannibal asked.

"He's a stuntman, or _was_," Jean answered, "I've seen him before around the film studio, I had the benefit of seeing him in more civilian clothes, which included short sleeve shirts perfect for showing off his tattoo, he didn't stick around much but the face did ring a small bell."

"Stuntman, eh?" Face asked.

"Driver specifically," Jean said, "You ought to see what he can do on a motorcycle."

"And you are?" he asked.

"Formerly known as the Kamikaze Racer," Jean answered.

"Oh yeah, I remember when they made that," he said, unenthusiastically, "About killed myself in one of the high speed crashes."

"Join the club," Jean said as she grabbed his hand and shook it.

By now some of the Trangs' icy exterior had melted away and now they could be seen in a different light; Virginia especially seemed to have thawed out and in a more subtle tone she explained to Hannibal, "We're not Buddhist people, Mr. Smith, our father became a reborn convert when he came to America, just as well because it coincided nicely with our mother's faith…only way she'd let him get any sleep," she smiled, "I'd rather have to answer for robbery when my time comes than letting people starve to death, the world's full of necessary evils, you have to decide which ones are most necessary."

"Well believe it or not, we're nothing if not sympathetic," Hannibal said, "But _who_ are you doing this for?"

She shook her head, "It wouldn't matter."

Lee was the one who told them, "Even if you did care, word gets out what's going on, the cops come after us and all those people are right back to where they started, the state letting them die by inches because they don't belong due to the fact that they can't pay for the luxury of belonging anywhere."

"Who?" Hannibal asked.

Virginia stared him down for a few seconds before giving in and explaining, "The city shut down both the food bank _and_ the homeless shelter in our neighborhood, 40 adults and 15 kids back on the street, nowhere to go and nothing to eat, and plenty more who aren't far off from the same fate."

That sudden revelation took everybody by surprise, and nobody knew how to respond.

"Oh boy," Face groaned.

"So that's why you did what you did," Murdock said as he folded his arms against his chest.

Virginia shrugged and had a vexed look on her face, "Warehouses are Fort Knox to get into, and you can't smash up a grocery store in the middle of the night without everybody and his brother getting there before you can get out, the trucks were the only place we could hit and get away because they're miles between delivery points and we know the back roads in and out from spending 20 years out in the country…don't think we like having to rob people and the companies, we know somebody else is going to suffer for it but you know what? I'm not so worried about the people who can actually pay for the food, I'm worried about the ones who can't, and there're more of them every day."

"She's got a point," Jean said to Hannibal, "We're all in a bad position but most can look after themselves, who've these people got?"

Hannibal looked to Virginia and told her, "I want to see these people."

"You think we're lying?" she asked in disbelief.

"I'm saying I want to see these people for myself, I want to see how bad their situation is, maybe then we can figure out a better way to help them," Hannibal explained as he stared her down, "Now where are these people?"

For a few seconds she said nothing, then, breaking eye contact with him, she said in a low and almost defeated tone, "Get in your van, follow us, we'll take you to them."

"One question," Hannibal said, "Why didn't you ever hit the trucks carrying the frozen food?"

"Because to keep it from spoiling we'd need a big chest freezer to hold enough food for all the people we're feeding, and we can't afford that, we can hardly afford to keep our home in the running condition it's _currently_ in," she explained.

As everybody walked back to their vehicles, Murdock shoved his hands deep into his jacket pockets and said as he followed behind Face, "And elsewhere people are eating $200 a pound fish eggs and drinking $70 a bottle wine."

"Imagine if the two positions were reversed," Jean added as she followed behind him.

* * *

"Well, Hannibal, what're we going to do?" Face asked once they'd gotten back to their home late that afternoon and were all seated in the living room trying to brainstorm, and coming up empty.

"Give me time, I'm thinking," he said.

"Well think faster," B.A. told him, "Ain't right what they did hitting those trucks, but I don't like hearing about _anybody_ starving, especially kids, and you know it, Hannibal."

"Mm-hmm," Hannibal grumbled over his cigar. Like the others he too remembered the looks on those kids' faces when they'd gone to see the people who had been evicted from the shelter when it closed. If anything, the Trangs made the situation sound better than it was.

They'd gone with the Trangs, and they'd found about 60 people living together throughout a vacant lot that had been overgrown with weeds and now had become a makeshift refuge full of old tents and second hand army surplus cots. This lot was right across from the house where the Trangs were living; it was a nice house of exceptional size, understandable given there were 7 people living in it. But it had since been turned into something resembling a soup kitchen. The dining room table was an extended table with extra leaves set in it and folding chairs placed all around it, to seat close to 20 people at a time; also in the living room, card tables and TV trays had been set up around the couch and chairs, the kitchen table was permanently weighted down with more plates and cups and silverware than the cupboards and drawers could hold, that were used and washed too constantly to even be put away if there had been space for them. Most of the kitchen floor was taken up by sacks of groceries, pyramids of canned foods, not that it mattered much because soon most of them would be gone, and then have to be replaced the next day or the day after. It had been explained to the A-Team that when possible, they took food over to the lot, but that was usually whatever didn't need to be cooked and could just be eaten as it was. For the most part they still had to do some light cooking and bring everyone to the house to eat, and then clean up the kitchen and start again.

"It's more than feeding them, Hannibal," Jean said as she sat down on the couch arm, "Those people need showers, they need medical treatment…you didn't get a good look at them, I did."

"How bad are they?" Face asked.

"Oh…nothing some peroxide and fresh bandages won't treat, maybe some antibiotic cream, maybe some calamine lotion, problem is getting enough supplies for 60 people, you know…" she shook her head, "Medical supplies never come in economy sized anything, you want medical care you always gotta pay dearly for it, especially if you want to have any in store for the next time."

Hannibal scratched behind an ear and said, "We're gonna need a place…" he sighed and closed his eyes as he pinched the bridge of his nose, "Need a place that's got a big kitchen so we can adequately get these people fed altogether…maybe more…"

"What, like Al Capone opening soup kitchens?" Jean asked.

"Or a mission?" Murdock asked.

"Something," Hannibal said, and did something very uncharacteristic for him, he pulled his legs up on the couch and folded them Indian style and sat on them as he thought, and raised a hand to his forehead as if he had a migraine, "Face, see if you can find any restaurant buildings that have gone out of business within the past few months…if we can find one and muscle our way in, we'll have a starting place anyway."

"I'll look, but Hannibal, scamming a restaurant is one thing, you know how much food it's going to take to feed all those people?"

"Now you're sounding like the city," Jean told him, "What's the matter, Face? Don't you have a con you could pull like…such and such foods have to be recalled immediately pending an investigation for possible contamination, and we must pull them off of every shelf possible and immediately?"

"It would only go so far, and it still wouldn't be enough," Face replied.

"Alright everybody shut up, let me think," Hannibal said.

Everybody was taken by surprise by Hannibal's little outburst, it was obvious just how much this was affecting him as well. So, everybody was quiet for a few minutes while he tried to come up with an idea.

"I seem to recall," he finally said, "On the way back we passed by a…a catering grocery store…you know, everything's sold by gallon cans and 50 pound bags, caters to all the schools and restaurants…"

"Well that's fine, Hannibal," Face replied, "But we're still talking about hundreds of pounds of food just to feed these people for a few days…where're we going to get the money for all those groceries?"

Jean and Murdock turned towards one another and both said to the other simultaneously, "Here we go again."

"Well," Jean said as she stood up, "At least we got our own freezer full before we go broke again."

* * *

"You want to what?" Virginia asked when the A-Team came to visit she and her brothers the next day.

"We're getting a place fixed up that we'll be able to move everybody there, least of all they'll have an actual place to come to and eat every day for a while," Hannibal explained, "In the meantime we're looking into the people who got the shelter and the food bank closed, see if maybe there's an ulterior motive for that decision, if there _is_ we could see about getting them reopened."

"And if there isn't?" Jimmy asked.

Hannibal shrugged, "We're going to do everything we can to get some kind of long-term help for these people…it's going to take a while. In the meantime, first thing's first, first we've got to get all those people cleaned up, and I've got a plan for that one. There's a high school about a mile from here, and I think those kids would be thrilled to get a head start on summer vacation."

Virginia looked at him curiously and asked him, "What do you mean?"

"We're going to go in and say that the school must be evacuated," Face explained, "I don't know…some kind of health hazard maybe…or maybe come in as the Army, something that people are not going to dispute with…then we bring everybody in, that gives them access to the school's showers, after that we've got to get some medical supplies and get them all treated. Once that's taken care of we're going to move them over to our place and get them fed, and as they come in we're going to find out who they are, and find out if they have any family that can be contacted to help them, it's going to take some time but we're going to get these people help."

"How're you going to do all that?" she asked.

"We've got a little money to run it on," Jean explained, "You were talking about necessary evils, where do you place gambling?"

The woman shook her head and said only, "Never heard anything said about that one."

Jean nodded, "We all do what we have to to get by."

"Right now we're in the process of getting the restaurant ready to go," Hannibal said, "We've got to get food, we've got to get people in who can cook…Jean, before we move everybody to the school, I want you to pick up some hygienic supplies; soap, shampoo, toothbrushes, toothpaste, deodorant, get everything."

"Anything specific?" she asked.

"I doubt anybody will be picky about what they get, but also pick up some antibacterial soap, and maybe check the drugstore for lice shampoo, if we're going to do this we might as well do it right, right?"

"Right," the others agreed.

"Left!" Murdock decided to answer.

"How much do you need for 60 people?" Jean asked.

"I don't know, get more than we'll need," he said, "You never know."

"What about the groceries?" she asked.

"We'll take the van to pick those up," Hannibal told her.

"And the cooking?" Jean asked, "_Who_ is going to cook all that food for 60 people?"

"We'll all trade off," he said.

"Hannibal if you cook anything for those people, they'd rather starve," she said.

Murdock was bouncing up and down in his seat with his arm raised, "I can do it, Hannibal, you know I'm a great cook."

"No you ain't," B.A. told him.

"Yes I am!"

"No you ain't."

"Yes I am!" Murdock said as he got to his feet.

"No you ain't!" B.A. insisted as he stared Murdock down.

"B.A.," Hannibal said, "Murdock _can_ cook, he's done it before, Jean, you know a few recipes, don't you? Anything that can be done on a grand scale?"

She shrugged, "I know a few recipes we can stretch out, my mother used to make potato soup, just keep adding water and milk and that stuff will go on forever…and it'll still be good."

"What about hamburger meat?" Murdock asked, "You can make burgers, meatballs, meatloaf…"

Jean shook her head, "We'd never be able to find that much reduced meat."

"What do you mean reduced?" Face asked, "Like the lean stuff?"

Jean shook her head, "No, Face, reduced meat is what they sell in the cheaper bin because it's 1 day from expiring."

Face looked sickened by that revelation, "Why would you want to get that stuff?"

"Faceman," Murdock said, "What do you _think_ all those burgers you ate at our house were made out of?"

Putting the dots together, now Face _really_ looked like he was going to be sick, much to the others' amusement.

"The regular grocery stores sell hamburger by 10 pound packs, we could get some of that," Hannibal said.

"Not those 10 pound tubes, that stuff's disgusting, it's no good," Jean said.

"Well you won't find sirloin burger in those amounts," Hannibal reminded her, "Can you get some of the leaner meat and mix it together?"

"For burgers? I don't know," Jean said, "That meat's very temperamental, we _could_ do it for meatloaf though, once it's all baked it doesn't matter much."

"Jean," Face told her, "These people are starving, they're not going to care if the food isn't gourmet."

"Just because they're starving _doesn't_ mean we're going to give them crap," Jean pointed out, "They're as entitled to a good meal as anybody else is, maybe _more_."

"Of course they are," Hannibal said, "First thing's first though, Jean, go get the soap, shampoo, razor blades, everything that these people are going to need to get cleaned up."

"Wait a minute, Hannibal," Jean said, "Now look, this place Face found is in good condition for cooking, it's got 2 stoves and 2 double sinks to clean up everything in, but aren't we _still_ going to be understaffed for all the people we're bringing in?"

"Not to worry, I already thought of that," Hannibal said, "I'm going to have an old friend come in and help you guys with the cooking."

"What old friend?" Jean asked suspiciously.

Hannibal smirked and told her, "Lin Duk Coo."

A look of recognition lit up Jean's face, "You mean that Cong camp cook who baked loaded shotguns into loaves of bread?"

"The very one," Hannibal said as his eyes ever so slightly lit up with glee, "If he can do that without blowing up Face's penthouse, he can do anything in a kitchen."

Jean nodded dismissively and said only, "Should be _real_ interesting meeting this guy."

"Just so long as Murdock doesn't start singing with him again," Face commented.


	15. Chapter 15

"So when's this guy, Lin Duk Coo coming?" Jean asked Face as they hauled in the groceries to the restaurant's kitchen. Face was toting two 20 pound bags of dry pasta, one under each arm, and Jean was likewise doing the same with 30 pounds of potatoes.

"Hannibal said he was going to bring him by this afternoon," Face said as they dropped the food on the middle of the floor.

"He better," she replied as she went over to the sink and helped Murdock haul one of the 12 quart pots of water onto the stove to get it boiling, "VC was right, we got too much to do and not enough people here to do it all."

"We shall have to press on until they arrive," Murdock replied in a new and cocky accent, then in his regular voice he added, "Hey Saint, you better get your apron on."

Jean looked down at herself and grumbled, she noticed that Murdock was dressed _all_ in white, white pants, a white sleeveless shirt and a white apron, the only thing different was his black Chuck Taylors.

"Why is it," she asked him, "Cooks and butchers and doctors all wear white? They're all gonna wind up bloody before the day's through anyway…why not all wear red?"

"Come on, Jean, this is no time for your philosophizing now," Face told her.

"You want philosophy? I'll give you…no, I'll give you history," Jean said as she tied on her apron and stirred a large pot of soup Murdock had cooking, "How many people do you figure are going to come in here?"

"As many as we can fit, and probably then some," Murdock said.

"All in all, what's happening here isn't anything new, but it sure rings of something pretty old," Jean commented.

Face looked to Murdock, without uttering a single word inquiring if she was still goofy from running on too little sleep, Murdock just shrugged his shoulders and went to break open some eggs.

"Of course when you get down to it, what the Trangs did isn't really anything that new either…back in the Civil War, the wives and mothers of confederate soldiers were supposed to be paid through the government for their husband's services, but what they paid them wasn't enough to feed anybody on. Face, you're the money man, how much would $1.10 be in the 1860s?"

"I don't know, Jean, I guess around $10 or so."

"Can you imagine paying that for one pound of bacon and a whole family to feed?" she asked, "It's no wonder they couldn't feed their families off what the government was giving them. So…" she stirred the soup again and added, "A bunch of the women got together, got some knives and hatchets, a couple of pistols, and went busting into the shops and taking all the meat and flour and molasses and salt they could carry…legend is they used to scream in the streets 'bread or blood'."

"I imagine it was easier to catch them back then," Face said.

"It was…but nobody really believed that the women were capable of planning something like that, let alone executing it, so for the most part they got away with it, but after it happened, the government finally increased the pensions the soldiers' families got so they could afford food. Course the soldiers didn't have it much better either…I remember reading of one post where there was only 2 boxes of crackers and 3,000 starving soldiers to feed…but I think the civilians proved more brutal than the soldiers, farmers would charge for the hay they put the dead on…as fast as they were falling, who could afford that? Damnedest of all ironies to be trying to earn a living when everybody else is dropping like flies, and to try making a living _off_ of everybody else dying." Then she turned back towards them and added, "You know, if you go far enough back through history, people didn't think women capable of too much of anything…shows what the hell they knew, not much, and you have the Europeans to thank for that."

"Boy you don't believe in doing anything simple, do you?" Face asked sarcastically.

"I'm serious…the Pilgrims come over and within a few years they undo everything the Indians have done for thousands of years, and to top it all off they set womankind and their rights back 5,000 years. The Indians were progressed enough to be doing back then what it's finally taking us till now to catch back up on. Once you get past the ancient history, people rewrote it to make men out to be the all powerful, the dominant, the mighty, the everything, and women out to be a bunch of weak, helpless, useless nothings, any _true_ history class could have that myth debunked in about 10 minutes. How about the women who disguised themselves as men and fought in the Revolutionary War, or the hundreds who did in the Civil War? How about the fact that up till the Civil War, women were seen as too incompetent to be nurses, but once _they_ took over, the casualty rates dropped immensely? And what about those Soviet women trained to be snipers and bomber pilots in World War II? And how about that Apache woman who tortured Marines in Vietnam? Even today the Army won't let women fight in combat, what're they afraid of, that they're going to show the men up and embarrass them?"

Face opened his mouth and started to talk, but then immediately thought better of it and promptly closed his mouth again.

"And you know what?" Jean turned around and addressed the two of them while holding one of the butcher knives off the rack, "For all people go on about society and men in general want women kept in the kitchen, do you ever think about what a serious undoing that would be to the men?"

"How do you figure?" Face asked.

"Have you _ever_ stopped to think about all the things there are in a common kitchen you can use to kill somebody?" Jean asked, "Not just knives and frying pans either, like this," she picked up a cleaver and then tossed it down and grabbed a tin can of sweet peas and swung it like she was going to brain somebody with it, "Or this," then she put it down and picked up a meat thermometer, "Or stab them with this," and she tossed it away as well, "Then you consider all the toxic cleaners normally stored under the kitchen sink, a little ammonia or bleach in the food and that'll take care of _any_ pest, or if you have the room for it, you can always use some high proof cooking alcohol and the stove or a box of kitchen matches, hell, even vegetable oil is combustible, you put your mind to it you could come up with a hundred ways to kill somebody in the kitchen."

Face turned to Murdock and said, "I think I'm going to go out front and see how the guys are coming with the furniture," and promptly left the kitchen.

"You know," Jean said to Murdock, "Hannibal's sure got a screwy sense of humor."

"You just figure that out?" he asked.

Jean half scowled at him and parroted, " 'Since this is our own place we can make our own rules for it' he said, 'Might as well get creative and have a little fun with it', he said…running a soup kitchen like a restaurant, giving the homeless people a menu instead of having them go single file through a cafeteria line…"

"What's wrong with that?" Murdock asked, "It's got to be better for them, gives them a sense of order back into their lives."

"I'm not saying there's anything wrong with it," Jean grumbled as she rubbed her eyes, "I'm just wondering where he comes up with this stuff."

The back door opened and Hannibal called out, "Hey we're here!" as he stepped into the kitchen with Lin Duk Coo right behind him.

"Lin!" Murdock exclaimed as he ran over to the older man and gave him a hug so strong he lifted the Vietnamese man off of his feet for a few seconds.

"Put him down, Murdock," Hannibal told him.

"Hey man, how've you been?" Murdock asked as he grabbed the cook's hands in his own and shook them rapidly.

"Do very well, how you do?" he asked.

"We're fine, oh," Murdock turned to Jean and snapped his fingers, "Jean, come over here and meet Lin Duk Coo."

As Jean came over to the others, Lin Duk Coo laughed and said, "The Colonel he tell me about this, you wife?"

"Uh, not quite," Jean said, "Close."

Hannibal explained to the cook, "Jean's going to be staying here in the kitchen and helping you and Murdock prepare the food."

"Oh the Colonel got lot people to feed, yes?"

"That's what we're hoping for anyway," Hannibal replied.

"Hannibal," Virginia said as she came into the kitchen, "Have you seen…"

"Lin Duk Coo, this is Virginia Claire Trang," Hannibal said, "Virginia, this is the man I was telling you about who's going to help us."

Virginia smiled and went over towards the older man and they exchanged a few Vietnamese words. Jean turned to Murdock and commented, "Don't you just hate it when you can't speak the language?"

The kitchen door swung open and Billy Trang stepped in with an armful of menus and said, "Hey Sis, I got them."

"Well look at that," Virginia said as she turned to him, "The prodigal son returns, _three hours later_," she walked over to her brother and smacked him in the back of the head and said sarcastically, "Come on, Number One Son, we got work to do!" and dragged him out of the kitchen.

Jean tapped Murdock on the shoulder and said, "You know, we ought to see about fixing her up with Face, she's _real_ nice."

Murdock took a step back as he laughed at that thought.

Just at that time, Face reentered the kitchen and everybody had a good laugh at the timing, though Face didn't get the joke at all.

"Alright, Hannibal, what's next?" Face asked.

"Have you found out who it was that ordered the shelter closed?" Hannibal asked.

"Uh, not yet."

Hannibal looked at him testily and asked, "Well what're you waiting around here for, an invitation? You're our public relations man…"

"_Please_, enough of his relations," Jean said, "Anymore of those and we're _all_ gonna need penicillin."

"Very funny," Face replied.

* * *

Everybody had their respected jobs to do that afternoon, Face was off digging up whatever dirt he could find on anybody that drew any attention in connection to the whole mess, B.A. and Hannibal were out subtly spreading the word about their restaurant to the local people who could use a place to eat, all the while gathering up all the people who'd been forced out of the shelter to take them over there. Virginia and her brothers were getting everything in order in the main dining section, and Murdock, Jean and Lin Duk Coo had already spent 2 hours in the kitchen cooking nonstop.

"The menu says they have an option of coffee or tea…with or without sugar," Jean noted as she hauled another 12 quart pan onto the stove, "Gonna need a lot of tea bags."

Then Murdock thought of something, "Did we even _get_ coffee? I don't remember seeing any of it."

"They had to pick up some, I don't even touch the stuff and even I'd remember that," Jean said.

Murdock went over to the large cupboards that had come with the kitchen. Each 'cupboard' was about six feet tall and big enough to put somebody in, and it reminded Murdock of the old story of the woman who tricked 5 men into a special closet and locked them in when they blackmailed her to join their harems to get her husband out of jail. He opened one door and saw this cupboard was all 50 pound sacks of flour and sugar, he closed that door and opened the next one, here, cooking alcohol, spices and seasonings, Lin knew how to cook and didn't know how to be simple about it, he admired that in a cook. Third cupboard door, he opened it and everything came avalanching down on him. The pilot found himself buried under 10 boxes of tea bags and 20 jars and cans of coffee.

"Well I guess that answers my question," he said as he got up, grabbed a big can of coffee, and a box of teabags, and tossed them onto the table before restacking everything.

Jean just rolled her eyes and shook her head. For a better part of the last 2 hours she'd stood idly by and listened to Face and Lin Duk Coo yap and catch up on what had been happening with each other, and then had to endure the two of them singing, so Face was right for once.

She had done a lot of things in her life, including a lot of things she'd just as soon _never_ do, but she'd never been on her feet all day cooking for people like this and after a while the work became both tedious and exhausting. Twice she started to nod off while she was standing up, supposing to be chopping vegetables, after the second time she looked at one of the butcher knives lying on the counter. She picked it up and considered how strange it looked; it wasn't a regular knife blade, it looked like a long, narrow cleaver, the blade was hardly any wider than the handle it was on, and it got her to thinking. She closed her eyes for a couple more seconds, then, holding the knife, she went over to where Lin Duk Coo was lining a dozen bread pans with dough and she said to him, "Hey Lin, tell me something," she held the knife out in front of him and asked, "How many times do you think you'd have to hit somebody with this before you killed them?"

Lin Duk Coo took a quick glance at the knife, and at her, and then he took a large step back from her.

"Jean, don't be talking about stuff like that with people," Murdock told her.

"It's an honest question," she insisted, "And all to the head…now _who_ in the hell would hate their parents so much they'd go upside their skull with something like this a dozen times?"

"Jean," Murdock said as he took the knife away from her, "He doesn't know what you're talking about."

"Uh…" Lin Duk Coo turned to them and said vaguely as if he was trying to remember, "Lizzie Borden took ax, gave mother 40 whacks, when saw what she done, she give her father 41, right?"

"Well _that's_ wrong but _you're_ right," Jean told him, "Now let me ask _you_ a question, 100 years ago everybody says no woman could do such a thing, you agree or disagree?"

"Jean," Murdock said with a warning tone in his voice. He didn't know what was with Jean but if she didn't knock it off he'd have to remove her from the kitchen.

And then Jean started laughing again, and it made Murdock's blood run cold, it wasn't any of her usual laughs, but it was one he'd swear he'd heard somewhere before.

"Hey Murdock," Jean said, a ridiculous grin on her face as she talked, "I just thought of something…" she moved over to him and said, "You know how B.A.'s always welding things, always building things? What you ought to do next time Decker comes around, have him make one of those souvenir booby traps the Viet-Cong used…bury that somewhere you know he'll step through and then he'll be snared like a rabbit…" she laughed again and fell against him, "They'll spend so much time digging the whole thing out just to get him to the hospital, they'll _never_ catch up."

"Jean!"

The door swung open and Virginia stepped in from the dining room and upon seeing the unusual sight before her, asked Murdock, "What's with her?"

"I don't know," Murdock said as he grabbed Jean. She was laughing uncontrollably now and her eyes weren't registering on anything in particular. "She has to be exhausted, we need to put her somewhere to rest."

Virginia pointed to the back pantry and told him, "There's a cot set up in there."

"Good idea," Murdock said as he grabbed Jean around her waist and forced her to walk with him, "Come on, darling, we're gonna set you down for a spell."

They moved her into the back room and got her laid down on the cot, once there, Jean's head swam as her neck swung from one side to the other as if the bones in it had all turned to putty. By now she wasn't aware of much, she wasn't aware of the people standing over her or what they were saying. Off in a distance she could hear music playing…maybe a radio in the kitchen, it didn't matter. All she knew was she could hear a familiar song playing somewhere, and now more than any other time when she'd heard it, the words as sung by Kim Wilde etched themselves in her brain like red hot coals.

"_Well he was Thailand based, she was an Air Force wife,_

_He used to fly weekends, it was the easy life,_

_But then it turned around and he began to change,_

_She didn't wonder then, she didn't think it strange,_

_But then he got a call, he had to leave that night,_

_He couldn't say too much but it would be alright,_

_He didn't need to pack, they'd meet the next night,_

_He had a job to do, flying to Cambodia._

_But then a call came through, they said he'd soon be home,_

_She had to pack a case, and they would make a rendezvous_

_But now a year has passed, and not a single word,_

_And all the love she knew has disappeared out in the haze…"_

If Jean had been any more awake, she'd realize that she had blacked out to part of the song, but it didn't matter, she could still hear it playing in her head as she fell into a different realm and started to dream.

* * *

The sky above was red as blood, the equally crimson clouds were large and shapely, indicating a coming storm. Jean looked up at this from where she sat on the ground with her knees drawn up to her chest. Looking down she saw that she was dressed in military fatigues, like a soldier about to go into combat.

Why was she here? Oh that was right, she was waiting to meet somebody…somebody was coming here to meet her. But who? Oh _yes_, she looked and saw the man coming towards her. She slowly got to her feet and stood up straight as he came over to her.

"I wanted to talk to you, Decker," she said.

"About what?" he wanted to know.

Jean leaned over and got in his face and said very calmly and matter-of-factly, "I want to know who I talk to about getting the A-Team a pardon."

Decker took a step back and looked at her like she was nuts, "What?"

"I already went to the President, he turned me down," Jean told him, "Who else, Decker? Is there an official head of the United States Army that I talk to about this or do I take my business elsewhere?"

"Why in the hell would you want to do that?" Decker asked as he put his hands on his sides.

"Because they're innocent and you know it," Jean said.

"I know no such thing," he replied with a growl.

"Well you don't know they're guilty," she responded, "You weren't there."

"And neither were you."

"Get over yourself, Decker," Jean said, "If they were really such lowlifes to come up with the idea themselves to rob the Bank of Hanoi, why did they come back to America and hire themselves out to be volunteer firemen or union workers or hostage rescuers? Hiring themselves out to people who generally can't pay them, what bank robber's going to do that?"

"None of that changes the fact that they were found red-handed with the money," he pointed out.

"So what?" Jean asked, "Pardons are issued to guilty people all the time, that's _why_ they're pardons, what makes them any different? Hell, if anything, they deserve a pardon more than anyone else and you know it."

"So why did you come to me?" he wanted to know.

"Quid pro quo," Jean said, "You know what channels to go through to get those pardons for somebody…and all it would take would be for somebody to do something for you first and you'd issue them, wouldn't you?"

He stared her down and asked, his face giving away nothing to what was going through his mind, "What would you be willing to do?"

Jean didn't miss a beat, nor did she flinch as she moved straight ahead and said to Decker, "You put me on any plane, you send me to any foreign country, you tell me who to kill, it's done…no questions asked, no witnesses. Just the typical American military, covering all its own bases, watching each other's backs and all that, to hell with anybody _over there_ and what happens to them or what the end result is and how it affects us so long as everybody _here_ is accounted for and keeping their noses clean where the public and the authorities are concerned, isn't that right?"

Decker's stone cold facial expressions remained in place for the most part though the slightest hint of a smirk and the tiniest glint of light in his eyes appeared at this mention, and he asked her, "And why would you be willing to do that?"

"Because I'm as involved with the A-Team as they come, I'm married to their pilot, and I'll be damned if I'm going to be dodging MP gunfire while I'm carrying his child, all the better to get this out in the open and taken care of as soon as is possible, correct?" she asked, "Sooner they're pardoned the sooner you stop chasing them and giving orders of shoot to kill."

Now Decker was openly smiling, a sickening thing to see, and he answered her, "A tempting offer…the Army's always looking for men who can get in and out between kills with no questions asked…but why you?"

"Because I'm the best," she told him, "I'm the greatest assassin who ever lived, it's _what_ I do best."

"I find that hard to believe," he said.

"Roderick, I about made your own head an exploding watermelon with my rifle and my spotless aim," Jean told him, "Do you _really_ think I'm going to have any qualms about putting a bullet in some dictatorial official that I don't even know? Quid pro quo, life for a life, right? The Viet-Cong killed Morrison, so maybe somebody from this side mysteriously kills somebody 6,000 miles away who's gunning for our own country, everybody who matters is happy, right?"

Decker seemed to consider it for a minute before he finally answered, "There's a plane heading back to North Vietnam, you're going to be on it."

"Anything for our wonderful country," Jean said sarcastically as she gave a mocking salute.

Decker showed her a picture of a man and said, "Here's your target."

She looked at the picture and did a double take, "This man's an American…he's…" she looked at the uniform the man was wearing, "He's a U.S. General."

"I know," Decker told her.

"What's he doing in Vietnam this late after the war?" she asked.

"Said he was going back to look for the daughter he had over there," Decker said, "He's no good to us, he'll compromise us if he's not taken out of the picture first."

Jean nodded understandingly, "I kill him, and the A-Team gets their pardons."

"That's right," Decker told her, "If you _don't_ do it…"

"I will," she replied short temperedly as she crumpled the picture in her hand, "Make no mistake, anybody I get in my sights for a killing, they _don't_ walk away." She turned and started to leave, but then doubled back and held out her hand, "The other one, Decker."

"Other what?"

"Oh come on, don't play that game with me," Jean said, "One favor always means more than one, meaning I have to kill 2 people for you in order to obtain those pardons, and you'd wait until I killed this General and came back and _then_ drop the bombshell, 'one more and then we meet our deal', so let me see your second pigeon."

Decker actually looked amused as he reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out a second photo. This one was also an America, an older man in a dark suit with dark hair that was starting to turn white on the sides, and he wore dark sunglasses.

"Another General?" she asked.

"Retired," Decker corrected her.

"Permanently soon," Jean replied.

"You better not blow this," he told her.

"Are you kidding me, Roddy?" Jean asked, "You know Hannibal Smith's favorite expression, this is gonna be…a piece of cake…"

* * *

"Jean!" Hannibal's voice rang in her ears like a gunshot.

Jean yelped as her eyes opened and she shot up on the cot in the pantry.

"Oh, Hannibal!" she said as she gasped to catch her breath, "What's going on, what happened?"

"You fell asleep, are you alright, kid?" he asked.

Jean put her hands on her head and shook it, trying to clear her mind, "Yeah…just had a crazy dream."

"What about?" Hannibal asked.

She looked up at him and said, "I don't remember." She got up from the cot and asked him, "Is everything alright?"

"Everything's fine," he answered, "Come on, everybody's going to be here in a few minutes."

"Okay," she rubbed her eyes and followed him out to the kitchen.

"There're going to be 60 people here in 10 minutes and everything's still not ready," Face said.

"What's the problem?" Jean asked.

Murdock lifted the pan of tea off the stove and told her, "Well for one thing, we forgot to watch the tea and all the bags broke open, so we had to make a new batch, gotta get it cooled down and make half and half."

"Alright, get another pan," Jean told him, "Face you help him pour half of it into it," she went over to the big chest freezer and pulled out a 10 pound bag of ice and worked on undoing the metal clasp around it and after they divided the tea, she poured half the ice into the two pans.

Face took a step back when the tea started splashing everywhere and he asked her, "What's the big idea?"

"You want it cooled down, it's cooled down!" Jean told him as she put the ice back in the freezer, "Now put the sugar in one of them and make sure you don't get them mixed up."

The kitchen was all commotion by now and outside the main dining room wasn't much better, everybody was starting to come in and tables were quickly being taken up. Virginia heard her brothers by the front entrance and went to see what was going on and she saw Jackie and Tommy bringing in a tall, thin old man with white hair and tiny glasses, it seemed he'd been knocked down outside and needed some assistance. Virginia pulled out a chair closest to them and helped ease the old man into his seat.

"Oh bless you, child," the man said as he tiredly laid his head on the table, "So nice of ye…"

"Do you need some water?" she asked him.

"Oh no, no dear," the man said as he pushed up on his hands and straightened himself out, "Just bring me a menu, I'd like to order now."

She went to the kitchen as Hannibal came out, he looked over everybody who had come in so far, and he had just crossed the table closest to the exit when he spun on his heel and did a double take. He went over to the old man and said, "Hector?"

"Shh," he replied as he looked up at Hannibal, "You'll blow my cover."

"Hector, what're you doing here?" Hannibal asked.

"I thought you'd like to know that some people are coming here to pay you a visit," Hector whispered to him, "One of them's little shorter than me, stockier built, green uniform and got a big nose."

"Decker," Hannibal said.

"Probably…thought you might like an advance notice to get out, I can cause a nice distraction."

"That won't be necessary, but if trouble breaks out here while we're gone, will you help the others?" Hannibal asked.

"You know I will, Johnny, now get on, save yourself," Hector told him.

"Right…" Hannibal went back to where the others were just coming out of the kitchen. By now Amy had shown up and was also assisting them.

"Jean," Hannibal went over to her, "I'm afraid there's bad news."

"I knew it," she said, "You're gonna get 80 people in here and then leave us hanging."

"Decker's on the way, we've gotta get out of here," Hannibal explained, "Are you and Amy going to be alright here by yourselves?"

"We're not alone," Jean told him, "We've got the Saigon brat pack here with us."

"Jean…"

"We'll be fine, Hannibal, do what you have to," Jean told him.

"Come on guys, we're going out the back way," Hannibal said.

The four of them made an emergency exit and a couple minutes later, Decker and the MPs were storming the building. They marched up and down the main dining area looking over everyone at the tables, and Decker stopped by Jean and said, "Well Miss Rhodes, where are they?"

"Where are who?" she asked.

"The A-Team."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Jean said, "Now if you'll excuse me you're cutting into my volunteer work."

Decker grabbed her and jerked her back to face him and said, "You really expect me to believe there's an altruistic bone in your body? Or that _this_ place is anything but the A-Team's latest cover?"

"Kindly remove your hand from my person before I bite it off," Jean said, and when he did she straightened out her shirt and said, "I don't care what you think's going on here…I'm here to help these people."

"And why would I be stupid enough to believe that?" Decker wanted to know.

Jean looked at him coyly and paraphrased, "And the Master took the sheep to His right and said 'For I was hungry and you fed me, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you took me in, I was naked and you clothed me, and when I was sick and imprisoned, you came to my aid, anything you did for one of your brothers, however humble, you also did for Me'."

"I don't believe you for one second," Decker told her.

"Well that's fine with me, I don't care what you believe…I'm also of the mind that it doesn't matter _why_ a Good Samaritan act is committed, all that matters is the people it helps," Jean said.

Decker turned to Amy and asked her, "And your business here would be?"

"You don't keep up on current events, do you?" Amy asked, "Smile," she raised her camera and flashed a picture before Decker could even blink.

"It just so happens," Jean told Decker, who was trying to get the spots out of his eyes, "That all these people lost their homes during the last big earthquake, we need help locating their families so the Los Angeles Courier Express is going to post an article with their pictures, asking for people to help find their relatives."

Decker snorted and remarked, "Keep it up and you'll _almost_ be as good at conning people as Peck is."

"Shall we take it that you're not staying?" Jean asked.

Decker got in her face and told her, "Mark my words, I'm going to catch the A-Team and they're going to prison."

"And I would recommend _you_ get out of this place and out of my sight before I forget _my_ position and break the 6th Commandment all over again," Jean warned him.

Decker growled something at her and turned to leave, with Crane by his side as usual.

"Decker," Jean called after him.

Decker spun around on his heel without missing a beat and barked at her, "_What_?"

Very calmly Jean said to him, "Everybody who comes in here _not_ to get a meal is asked to make a small monetary donation on their way out to fund future meals for the homeless."

Decker glared at her and grumbled and turned around so quick he just about knocked down the young mother standing behind him, who had one child on her hip and two other small ones at her side. Decker stopped and for a brief second, froze.

"What's the matter, Roddy?" Jean asked, "You mad at money or something?"

Decker stepped to the side and let the mother and her children pass to be fed, then he and Decker stopped by the door where the donation jar was and reached into their jackets for their wallets.

"How about it," Jean said to Amy, "Guess there's one born every minute."

"A sucker?" Amy asked.

"A miracle," she answered.


	16. Chapter 16

"_What_ is that?" Amy asked as she looked at the mess hanging from the kitchen ceiling.

Lin Duk Coo kept his head down and laughed to himself, further sparking Amy's morbid curiosity.

"Murdock got the idea that you could flip hot cookies like they do pancakes," Jean explained, "If you want my advice, keep your head down and don't look up, might not hurt to tie a rag over your hair either."

Virginia nodded her head towards the door leading to the dining area, and asked, "Who was that guy?"

"That is Colonel Roderick Decker, he's been chasing after the A-Team for a few years now, come close to catching them a few times," Jean answered, "But fortunately they always get away."

"The Colonel always has a plan," Lin said.

"And if he doesn't, Murdock usually does," Jean added, "Just as well considering about half of Hannibal's plans usually blow up in his face and everybody else's."

"Piece of cake," Lin said.

"That's it!" Jean told him, "That's the secret password."

Amy thought to ask, "_Why_ is it whenever Hannibal says that, everything goes wrong?"

"Either because he just loves messing with us, or it's some unwritten rule that you don't say, like never say 'things can't possibly get any worse', because they always will," Jean said.

The kitchen door swung open and Jimmy poked his head in and said to Virginia, "Hey sis, we got a fight breaking out here!"

"Oh brother," she replied, "Come on, Amy, let's see what's going on."

"Might make a good scoop for your paper!" Jean suggested on their way out.

And now it was just she and Lin Duk Coo in the kitchen. Jean went over to the man and asked him apprehensively, "Eh, Lin? Were we talking about something earlier in here?"

He looked at her through the corner of his eye and shook his head, "Not much."

She wasn't buying it, "We _were_ talking about something, weren't we?" She squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed them, "I can hardly remember, everything's just a blur anymore. About all I can remember is Murdock yelling at me, for something I said, that was it, wasn't it? Something I said to you?"

She noticed the small smile on Lin's face as he kept his head down and focused on the food he was preparing, but he told her, "See plenty in prison camp…soldiers forced to stay awake, during rounds I hear soldiers talk to things not there…talk to people and nobody there."

"Were _they_ ever like that?" Jean asked.

"Ah…" Lin thought about it, "Murdock talk to…Billy."

"Well that's his dog, that's alright," Jean said, "Well look, I don't remember what I said, but if it was out of line, I'm sorry."

She noticed he was smiling again, this time more noticeable, he looked up from the counter and told her, "No need, the Colonel he tell me all about you."

"I'm afraid to ask," she said.

"The Colonel say…'Only pay attention to half what she say…like dog, bark worse than bite'."

"I guess he'd know better than most," Jean said as she pushed up and sat on the counter beside where he was working, "At the time they were in that POW camp, I was probably 10 years old or so…all the same, I want to thank you for saving my husband's life."

He looked at her and with a small nod, said simply, "You're welcome."

A minute passed and Jean said to him to break the silence, "So…I wonder when they're going to be back here."

"Knowing A-Team, probably soon," Lin answered.

* * *

"As far as we can tell," Face explained to the others that night, "The homeless shelter all these people came from legitimately closed down…wherever they were getting the money to keep it running just apparently ran out."

"Probably just as well," Hannibal said as they sat around the kitchen table and discussed it, "Some of these people are going to have family coming to collect them within a few days, others aren't so lucky, if they're going to get out of this mess they're going to have to find work somewhere, and no employer's going to be too eager to take somebody who lists the local homeless shelter as his place of residence."

V.C. folded her arms on the table and about dropped her head on top of them and she asked him, "So now what?"

"Well I've got a plan," Hannibal said, "You remember the old boarding houses?"

"Sure, they were _really_ popular back during the Depression when everybody had to band together to survive," Jean tiredly answered as she rubbed one eye.

"Alright, well it just so happens I know where we can find a building that would be a close second to that idea…it's been shut down for a while, would take a little work to get it up and running…"

"Hannibal," Jean said, "Incase you're forgetting, the idea of a boarding house is that everybody pays for their room and board…and since these people can't then that means _we've_ got to pick up the tab on that, and how much is that going to cost?"

"It would only be temporary, once they were able to find work they'd be able to pay their own rent," Hannibal answered, "Besides, who said anything about _us_ paying for it?"

"Who then?" V.C. asked.

"See that is why Face is our public relations man, he can sweet talk his way in on some unsuspecting millionaire and get a hefty 'donation' from them," Hannibal said, "After all, we support the wealthy giving generously to those worse off than themselves, right?"

"Right," the others agreed.

"So he manages to get enough money from some rich sucker to keep the utilities on and the groceries coming for these people until their own paychecks start coming in, which would be how long do you think?" Jean asked.

"Well it wouldn't matter much if we could manage to talk our unsuspecting donor into giving a nice _round_ amount like…a million dollars?" Face suggested.

V.C. sighed, "If only we could've done that in the first place, then we wouldn't have had to hold up those trucks."

"True, but then again if you could've done that," Hannibal pointed out, and grinned, "Then you never would've met us."

"How long will it take to get the place in working order?" Jean asked.

"I figure a week at the most," Hannibal said.

Jean slammed her head down against the table and grumbled, "Another week cooking for 80 people…"

Murdock patted her back and said, "Not to worry, Saint, now that the place is up and running, the others can help us in the kitchen."

"That's right," Virginia nodded, then pointed to her brother Stephen and added, "Just don't let this one anywhere near the food."

"How come?" B.A. asked.

"Army cook," she said, and with a roll of her eyes, explained, "Hangover from when we were growing up, means he makes too much food and it's all garbage. Which reminds me," she also pointed to Jason and added, "Never let him around the food either."

"He an Army cook too?" Hannibal asked.

"No, he's a garbage disposal, he eats everything," she said.

"Well at least they go well together," Face commented.

* * *

Once the kitchen was cleaned up and everything was set up for the next day, everybody went back to Jean's home for the night. Around 12:30 Hannibal was creeping down the stairs for a glass of water, and as he made his way through the dining room, he stopped and noticed a figure sitting in the dark in the living room. It didn't move when he came down, so he slowly inched his way in…as he got closer he was able to make out who it was, "Jean?"

She looked up at him and said dryly, "Hey, Hannibal."

"What're you doing up?" he asked.

She shook her head and said only, "Didn't feel like sleeping."

"What's going on?" he asked.

She looked up at him again and said, "I know you've heard this one before, but I think I'm losing my mind."

"Why now?" Hannibal asked.

"I've been having some very weird dreams lately, I don't know if they're meant to be a recollection of something that's already happened…or a premonition of something that will be…or if it's about somebody else's life altogether," Jean told him, "Lately I've had this recurring dream where I'm with about 20 men, and we're all in our Army uniforms, and we're marching out somewhere…and then…" she turned her head to look away from him and she explained, "I hear shots ring out and we all fall forward, and then I'm in this massive grave full of dead soldiers…I don't know if I'm alive or dead or what…I'm just there, buried in with 20 dead men."

Hannibal didn't say anything, just stood there and watched her, because he knew that there was more to it than just that, and there was.

She continued, "I keep thinking maybe it's something to do with…the _other_ Jean Rhodes, and all the others who were killed at that base. I wonder if maybe _I_ was supposed to have died along with them that night?"

"Don't say that," Hannibal said lowly, almost growling the words.

"What if it's true?" she asked, "What if all this time, all it's been is my borrowed time? What if I wasn't meant to escape that night?"

Hannibal shook his head, "Wouldn't happen…mistakes on that grand a scale aren't made, if you're here now it's because you're supposed to be here."

Jean glanced down at the floor and told him shakily, "I wouldn't be too sure about that." She looked up and explained, "I haven't told you all yet…this afternoon when I was in the back pantry asleep, I had a dream I went to see Decker, to discuss a deal about getting a pardon for you guys. He said you would be pardoned if I would go to Vietnam and kill 2 American Generals over there…and you know what, Hannibal? I said yes, I'd do it, and even now I'm not sure if the deal was still offered…if I wouldn't…if I wouldn't…"

She was cut off by the sound upstairs of somebody screaming in a panic. They both recognized it as Murdock and took off running for Jean's room. Making their way around in the dark, they sprinted up the stairs and through the hall and went into the bedroom where they saw Murdock thrashing around on the bed as he cried out in his sleep, "Cannibal! Murderer! Help! Help! Hannibal! Hannibal!"

They both ran over to him, Hannibal tried jerking Jean back incase Murdock went into attack mode, but the pilot's eyes opened and he immediately recognized the people in the room with him. He popped up and grabbed Hannibal tightly and begged him, "Don't let him do it, Hannibal, don't let him do it!"

"Murdock, calm down," Hannibal said as he pulled the younger man's hands off of him, "Let who do what?"

Murdock seemed to be more fully aware of his surroundings now and he sank back onto the bed in a sitting position, and ran his hands over his face and through his hair as he gasped to catch his breath.

"Oh Hannibal…I had a horrible nightmare," Murdock said, "I dreamt that B.A. had me tied up and forced me to watch while he hard boiled my golf ball and then ate it…and then he had a whole bucket of GB's relatives and started eating them too! Oh it was awful, cannibalism as far as the eye could see!"

Hannibal patted Murdock's back soothingly and told him, "It was just a dream, Murdock, now, where did you last put GB?"

"In his little bed," Murdock said, and pointed over to the trunk.

Jean found it, Murdock had placed the golf ball in a large padded bracelet box and covered it with a piece of thin sponge foam lining. He had also made it a little sleep mask by doubling a thick rubber band around where he'd drawn the golf ball's eyes.

"See Murdock?" Hannibal asked, "GB's alright, it was just a nightmare."

Murdock took the box from Jean and started talking to his golf ball in a high pitched form of gibberish that both of them only half understood.

Once they had that crisis averted and Murdock back in bed sleeping peacefully, Hannibal and Jean tiptoed out of the room and down the hall to talk in private.

"Now," he said, "Let's get back to what we were discussing before, _this_ is why you haven't been sleeping lately, isn't it?" he asked.

"I asked Murdock how you can tell if a dream means something, if you're supposed to do something with it, he couldn't answer me. What if it all means something?" Jean asked.

Hannibal held his hand up to stop her and said, "Jean, I don't believe you're anymore capable of doing anything for Decker than B.A. is of eating Murdock's golf ball…come to think of it, I think B.A.'s _more_ likely to eat GB."

"If it meant getting you guys a pardon _and_, _if_ I knew I could trust that sewer rat Decker…I just might," Jean said, "Let's face it, Hannibal, that's about all I'm good for…that's why he and I go so well together even though we hate each other, we're so much alike…I told him that from the start." Her voice was starting to shake now and she added, "_Hell_ of a thing to be known for, isn't it? You know Murdock wants _so_ much to have children…what kind of a legacy is that for them to be born into? His side's not so bad, but how many people can honestly say that their mother killed 20 men in cold blood, and enjoyed it? What a horrible thing to grow up knowing."

"Nobody who's still alive knows outside of us," Hannibal told her, "They would never have to know."

"They would know…this stuff isn't taught, it's inborn in them…they _know_ when something's wrong, Hannibal, and they know when there's something wrong with their genetics…people say that this stuff is hereditary, I could pass it on to them."

"If that were the case, how did it get passed on to you?" Hannibal asked, "We both know your mother couldn't kill anybody if she had to, I doubt very much that your father could either."

"And 4 years ago I never would've thought I could either," Jean told him, "Just shows how wrong our perceptions of ourselves can be." She looked down and shook her head, "Maybe Murdock would be better off with somebody else, _anybody_ else…somebody normal, somebody _stable_, didn't Amy say she has a reporter friend who's single?"

"Jean," Hannibal cleared his throat, "If Murdock wanted somebody normal, he would've violated the VA policy about patients and nurses years ago. You can't expect a crazy person to satiate himself with a 'normal' partner, it takes everything too far off balance, even for _his_ equilibrium."

"If we get married this time, there's no walking away from it, we both agreed on that," Jean said, "I don't want him making a mistake that's going to haunt him the rest of his life."

Hannibal looked at her and calmly said in response, as if it was the most logical thing in the world, "Then marry him."

Jean stared at him uncertainly and told him, "If I tell Murdock about this, he's going to hate me."

"No he won't," Hannibal assured her, "Jean, there is nothing that you _have_ done or _could_ do that would make him hate you. He's already seen you at your worst."

"We hope anyway," she replied.

He asked her, "If this really bothers you all that much, have you considered seeing somebody about it?"

"A head shrinker?" Jean shook her head, "No-no, forget it, Hannibal…if Murdock wants to talk to that quack Richter, that's fine, but I refuse…I tried talking to him once before and we got nowhere, if we sat down to a session together, we'd wind up killing each other…or at the least I'd kill him."

There was a pause between them for a minute, then Hannibal leaned over and kissed her and told her, "Go on to bed, kid."

* * *

The next morning Hannibal found out Jean hadn't gone to bed, or at least not _up_ to bed, early he'd found her asleep on the couch in the living room. He got her up and told her that he needed her to go down and help Lin start getting everything ready for the day. Jean grumbled the entire way out the door about having somebody else go in her place but she went anyway, and after she was gone, Hannibal went upstairs to wake up Murdock and consult the Team's amateur psychiatrist for a more authoritative opinion.

He got the Captain up and relayed to him some of what Jean had told him the night before and asked Murdock what he thought about the whole situation. Murdock sat up on the bed and responded, "A couple months ago, Jean found out that her petition to the President to get pardons for you guys was rejected…she took it pretty hard."

"Well we knew it wouldn't be as simple as that," Hannibal said.

"I know, but she was hoping," Murdock told him, "And I guess it's still weighing heavily on her subconscious, because if it was conscious she would know _why_ she's thinking about this."

"What about the rest of it?" Hannibal wanted to know what the pilot thought.

"Jean was relatively close with the other Jean…she blamed herself before for his death and the others', I'm sure it's still heavy on her mind as well…we went into our search for her assuming she was he, that something somewhere had been crossed…it _could_ very well be the same here…she feels some sort of cross connection to what happened." He met the Colonel's gaze and added somberly, "Let's face it, Colonel, we _all_ know what it's like to live with the memories and the guilt, whether we could've done anything or not, she's not any different."

Hannibal nodded, but he disagreed, "She is…because she wasn't supposed to be there."

Murdock snorted, "We all had a call we answered to, Colonel…fate doesn't stick people where they don't belong, everything we go through is merely a test, in the event of an actual emergency…"

"Okay, I get it, Murdock," Hannibal said, "I'm just not sure what we're going to do with her…you think maybe if Doctor Richter agreed to see her that…"

Murdock shook his head, "She already had her words with him once…for therapy to work you have to be willing to cooperate with the doctor, and you know she won't."

"She's too stubborn," Hannibal said simply.

"Well, it's not just that," Murdock said as he pushed back the covers and got up, "I spent 10 years seeing those doctors at the V.A., I had a lot of things I needed to come to terms with, and most of it took just about _all_ of those 10 years' time…between you and me, Colonel, I think she's got her head screwed on a little tighter than I did."

"_That'll_ be our little secret," Hannibal replied with a brief smile.

"All due respect, Colonel," Murdock said somberly, "…anybody who went through everything she did and _didn't_ die in the process, they would've been the guy in the room next to me at the V.A., that she's _this_ well put together after all that, is a damn miracle."

"I know," Hannibal said, and added to himself that it was also a miracle that the man in front of him had also come through everything _he_ had as _well_ as he had. Most people he knew would only be able to take being the pilot of so many crashes for _just_ so long before they started taking it personally, but nothing could keep his Captain out of the sky, no matter _how_ many times they'd been shot down over the years.

* * *

Jean peeled the rubber gloves off her hands and snapped them like a couple of large rubber bands. "Well that takes care of that batch of dishes until the next mess is made," she told Lin Duk Coo, "If you don't mind I think I'm going to crash in the pantry for a while before the others get here."

Lin looked over from where he'd been boiling water on the stove, "No sleep well last night?"

"Didn't sleep long, I don't sleep well," she shook her head and groaned, "I may die from this. Ironic considering the facts."

Lin cleared his throat and Jean saw he was holding a coffee cup, he held it out for her and said, "When cook in camp, make special blend of tea for General Chow, make him sleep like _baby_."

"Probably didn't hurt he had the IQ of one," Jean said as she took the cup and looked down at the dark water. She looked back to Lin and asked him, "Incidentally is _this_ how you managed to sneak the prisoners food so nobody was looking?"

He smirked and answered, imitating Face, "Professional secret."

"That's what I thought," she said, and tried drinking the tea. It tasted awful to her but she managed to force it down anyway. She handed the cup back to Lin and said, "If Hannibal shows up, just give a yell so I'll know. He catches me sleeping on the job again he's just liable to run me through the wringer of his obstacle course again."

The door swung open and she just about collided with Lee who came running in.

"Hey Jean, you guys want to see this?" he said, "We got a new idea cooked up if Colonel Decker comes back."

"I'd love to see it but right now I'm wanted in the back pantry, the potatoes are lonely," Jean said as she slapped him on the back and made her way over to the other door, "Show Lin."

Virginia and Jackie came in behind Lee, Lin turned to them and asked, "Got what planned?"

"We'll show you," Virginia stepped up on a chair and then got onto the kitchen table and waited for Lee to come over.

When he did, she climbed up on his shoulders, but instead of sitting on them, she let her upper body fall back so her body was evenly proportioned against the back and front of her brother. Lee moved over to Jackie, and Virginia stuck her feet out and stuck them under his armpits and Lee moved with enough speed and momentum that they managed to lift Jackie off his feet. Lee spun around, maintaining his hold on his sister, and in the process maintaining her hold on Jackie as they worked together to spin him around, and around, and around, until they came to an abrupt stop and sent him flying halfway across the room before coming to a crash landing on the floor. Lin fell back against the counter laughing at the spectacle.

"That' very good," he said, "But what's it for?"

Virginia lifted her legs up and rolled off her brother's back and landed back on the table and said, "We do that to Colonel Decker and that'll _definitely_ slow him down."

"And make him sick," Lin added.

"Even better," Lee said.

"What about others…military police?" Lin asked them.

"We thought of that too," Virginia said, and pointed to Jackie and Lee, "Thing 1 and Thing 2 here used to work in a pit crew…also briefly in a one-stop chop-shop, they can take a car apart and put it back together in 20 minutes, but they can strip it to pieces in 5."

"Old joke from a TV program we saw as kids," Jackie told Lin, "Take one tire off and take the sparkplug out of the car, and good luck driving that anywhere."

"Of course you'd get the same effect with just stealing the spark plug," Lee added, "But it's funnier if you come in with the front tire too."

While Lin was having a good laugh with that, Jean was already conked out on the cot in the pantry; the room had a small window that had been opened for ventilation, and it let in the smell of rain that was hanging in the atmosphere outside. The day had started off clear and with the sun coming up, but now it was cloudy and looked like it would be heavy for rain soon. The scent filled Jean's nostrils and in the deep recesses of her mind, took her somewhere she'd never been, and wouldn't want to.

* * *

She didn't remember the plane ride out, she didn't remember leaving the United States, and she didn't remember being dropped off, all she remembered were her orders and the supplies she'd been sent out with.

Even in school when history covered Vietnam, they never bothered showing any pictures not combat related; there weren't a lot of opportunities to see the jungle in all its pre-war splendor. At night it was difficult to see the infamous brush that the U.S. military had attempted to destroy courtesy of their turncoat friend Agent Orange, but she was able to see enough. She didn't have any idea what any of the plants or the tall trees were that she saw, but they were definitely a switch from the kinds she'd seen back home in the U.S.

She shivered. It didn't generally get cold in the jungle, but she felt a chill. No wonder she supposed…_anybody_ could feel cold crawling along the muddy ground on their stomach, in the dead of night with no clothes on. One thing she supposed the Vietnam war could be credited with, that was the birth of camouflage uniforms that actually worked. Plain green proved more effective in World War II but in Vietnam, to disappear into the brush you had to look like the brush; and since the idea hadn't died out, she could only take that to meaning that it worked. It definitely seemed that if camouflage was going to work at all, night was the best time for it, and for that Jean had taken a vastly different approach. She'd stripped off her clothes and covered herself from head to foot in black shoe polish; she'd even used it to blacken her hair, and had also remembered to black out the nails on her hands and feet, _nobody_ would see her crawling through the jungle tonight, and that was exactly the idea. The only covering she wore as she crawled around on the ground like a worm was a jungle green loin cloth, and a matching piece of cloth tied around her chest. Jane Porter, eat your heart out, she grumbled a laugh quietly to herself as she crawled along through the muck and weeds and kept an eye out for snakes or lizards or any other sign of jungle wildlife.

Jean came to an abrupt stop when she found herself up a hill, and saw a light coming from somewhere down below. Nothing to do now but wait, what she wouldn't do for her friends but all the same she hoped the schmuck she was going to kill would hurry up soon. She started to wonder how she ever had the patience to lay in wait for any of the other people she'd killed, maybe she was just going soft, or maybe she was just too long out of practice.

Time passed slowly and there was no sign of any movement from below, Jean's eyes started to feel heavy and she could feel herself starting to fall asleep. Then, she heard somebody talking. Looking down the hill she could see two men standing by the fire. Her eyes bulged out and her heart stopped short of her mouth…down below was an older man wearing dark glasses, he was the second man Decker had shown her a picture of, the _retired_ General, _not_ the one who'd come here for his daughter. And standing next to him by the fire was a Vietnamese man, Jean moved closer for a better look and was also able to pick up part of the conversation.

"You wait until they reach the van and _then_ you shoot him," the man in glasses said to the Vietnamese man, "I want his blood on their hands."

The other man nodded, "Yes sir, General."

Jean wasn't sure what was going on but she had a _bad_ feeling that she _knew_ all the same. She stayed to the ground and held her breath as the men started walking towards her. Amazingly, they never noticed her and passed right on by, after they'd gone, she rose up on her knees, turned around, raised the M-16 she'd brought with her, and called out, "Hey General!"

And what other response could there possibly by when you heard somebody calling your name and _knew_ you were miles away from any other form of human life? Initial shock and curiosity won over and he started to turn around.

BAM!

The 'second pigeon' had been the first to croak, unplanned but not necessarily the worse for anybody's wear. The only problem was Jean wasn't sure what to do now. She clutched the rifle tightly against her, standard army life, in the brush your only friend was your gun, it was your life. In the jungle you lived and died by guns, grenades, napalm, punji traps, whatever each side could come up with to kill and maim, that was what determined if you lived or died, that, and how fast you were to fire first.

Back when Hannibal was preparing her for the work camp, he'd gone into full drill sergeant mode and riding on that old power of command, he swore that he would have her broken before he was done with her. By some miracle, he hadn't, despite his best efforts that had helped him break in many young men in Vietnam, he hadn't been able to get the same reaction out of her. She withstood his attitude and abuse and his relentless orders, the constant screaming, berating, everything, nothing had been able to undo her. Clearly that had been reserved for another time, and this was it; Jean leaned her head against the rifle and cried bitterly, the war was never over, nothing ever changed, the killings never stopped.

* * *

Jean was aware that somebody was shaking her and tried to push them off of her, but when she reached out she felt a big hand with a lot of sharp metal things all over it. She opened her eyes and saw B.A. hovering over her, and looking back she realized she'd tipped the cot over and fallen on the floor sometime when she was asleep.

"Hey mama, you okay?" B.A. asked.

Jean absentmindedly ran one hand over her face and was relieved it was dry, she had nothing to explain. "Fine…just fell asleep, everything going alright out there?"

"All except that crazy fool doing something new and weird," B.A. told her.

Jean got up and went out to the kitchen and saw everybody was there and carrying on like nothing was going on. She looked around and found Murdock and saw what B.A. was talking about, Murdock had a can of baking cocoa powder in one hand and a spoon in the other and seemed to be shoveling the tasteless, sugarless dust into his mouth like it was ice cream.

"Murdock, what're you doing?" she asked as she went over to him.

He turned to her and smiled, "Hey Saint, oh…" he held the can out to her, "Want some?"

"No thanks…_why_ are you eating that?"

"Strangest thing," he said as he swallowed another spoonful, "Out of nowhere I just got this overwhelming craving for it."

Jean took a step back and said jokingly, "Now don't tell me you're pregnant."

"Oh I should hope not," he replied, his eyes wide and looking a bit worried, "I can't have an illegitimate child, he'll never get any mail."

B.A. rammed his finger against Hannibal's shoulder and when the Colonel finally turned to see what the Sergeant wanted, he growled into Hannibal's face, "The fool's getting worse, Hannibal."

"How can you tell?" Jason Trang asked.

His sister hit him in the back of the head and told him, "Shut up, Number One Son."

"I thought that's what you called Billy," Face said.

"I have 6 brothers," she told him, "And as far as I'm concerned they're _all_ Number One Son," then with an exaggerated expression of humor on her face she added, "Ironic, ain't it?" and then glared at him before returning to the large pot of spaghetti she was cooking.

Hannibal turned to Jean and told her, "They're going to take over for us for a while so we can go work on the boarding house, you want to come with us or stay here with them?"

"Anything to get out of this kitchen," she said, and yanked her apron off over her head.

"Hey wait a minute," Billy said as he came in the kitchen door, "We haven't shown you our new act yet."

"Your what?" Face asked.

"We got a new idea on how to keep Colonel Decker busy if he tries coming here again," Virginia explained.

"Well this ought to be good," Hannibal said as he folded his arms.

Billy and Lee came up and stood on either side of Virginia and one by one they introduced themselves.

"My name is Who," Billy said.

"My name is What," Virginia added.

"My name is Where," Lee added, like his siblings he managed to do so with a straight face.

"Oh great, just what we need," Face said cynically, "An Abbot and Costello joke."

"Look on the bright side," Murdock said, "It ought to blow Decker's mind through the roof trying to figure that one out."

"Tell you what," Hannibal told them, "You can give us the whole performance when we get back."

"Alright, but what if Decker tracks you to the apartment house?" Billy asked.

"It's a four-story house," Hannibal explained, "Let him come after us, we'll send him back down to the first floor _express_. You just make sure if he comes here that he doesn't get his hands on Lin Duk Coo, as far as I know Decker was never in a POW camp but I wouldn't put it past him trying to get some answers out of Lin through any means necessary."

The three Trang siblings saluted and replied, "You got it, Colonel."

"You know," Face said to the others on their way out, "I think I'm starting to like them."

"What was your first clue?" Murdock asked as he tailed behind the Lieutenant.


	17. Chapter 17

"Boy this place is a _dump_," Jean told Hannibal as she sat back in a chair out in the 4th floor hall and pressed her feet up against the railing, "I don't know _how_ you think you're going to get this place livable for those people."

"Well I said it was going to take a little time," Hannibal told her, "B.A.'s getting the wiring replaced, Face is arranging to have the roof fixed, and between all of us we ought to have it cleaned up before too long."

"A four story house," Jean grumbled as she got up, "As if cleaning my own home wasn't bad enough with the four of you there all the time."

Hannibal just chuckled under his breath and said, "You and Murdock take this floor and when you get done, come on downstairs and we'll figure out what needs to be done next."

"Alright," Jean grumbled.

After Hannibal went down the stairs, Jean could hear music coming from behind one of the closed doors on their floor. Murdock had brought a small radio with him so he could pick up some music while they cleaned the place; one of the bedroom doors opened and he came out dancing and lip-synching to a song by Culture Club that was currently playing. Jean watched him and laughed, then he came over to her and actually started singing as he grabbed her and tried getting her to dance with him.

"Come on, Murdock, stop it," she said as she tried pulling away from him.

"Oh come on, Jean," he replied as he yanked her back towards him, "I ain't been able to get close to you in days."

"Sorry, darling," Jean said in her own imitation of a British accent as she pushed him back, "Can't be helped, business and all."

Murdock growled under his breath and lunged at Jean, grabbed her before she could move, picked her up and carried her into the room and kicked the door shut behind him. There was a muffled sound of a scuffle inside, followed by a few crashing noises, then Jean came running out with Murdock chasing after her. He chased her all around the hall until they came to the banister and Jean grabbed the chair and held it up and in front of her like a barrier between the two of them and growled back at him, repeating every time he tried lunging at her, "Down-down-down!"

Murdock growled quietly in defeat and sank down to the floor with a pout on his face.

"That's better," Jean said as she set the chair back where it was, "Tell me something, Murdock, you think Hannibal can really pull this one off?"

"Well if Faceman manages to swing that million dollar donation, and I'm sure he will because that's just the kind of guy he is," Murdock said with a smile, "Then I don't see why not."

Jean went over to the railing and looked down to the next floor and commented, "Yeah well, I hope it works soon…much as I like the chance to do a little charity work to help out those less fortunate, I'll like it when I just have to go back to cooking for you four bohos."

Murdock cackled delightedly as he came up behind her and said, "I'll like it when this job's over so _we_ can do a little sleeping _in_ in the mornings."

As he wrapped his arms around her waist and moved in for a kiss, Jean elbowed him and moved away, telling him, "You just keep those eggs close by, pal."

"Aww, Jean," Murdock playfully scowled at her, and tried moving in for a kiss again.

Jean pushed him away and said, "Come on, Murdock, let's just get this done so we can get out of here, Hannibal's going to chew us out if we don't get this finished."

Murdock followed after her, and looked around at the fourth floor and commented to Jean, "You know what this reminds me of? One of them old East Side Kids haunted house movies, remember those? Those were always a lot of fun."

"Knowing our luck," Jean said as she took out a key and unlocked a door, "We'd probably find an old printing press in the basement with old pamphlets on how to destroy the Allies and what the New Order means to us."

From somewhere down on the second or third floor they heard a loud and sudden, "Ah-CHOOOOOO!" They both leaned over the railing and called down to Face, "Gesundheit!" and headed on their way.

Murdock tagged behind Jean, poked her on her shoulder and when she stopped and turned to him he asked, flashing the most innocent looking puppy dog eyes he could manage, "You mad?"

She had a sheepish look on her face and she explained, "I'm not mad, I just feel like hell, and I'm bound to take somebody down with me." And with that, she turned on her heel and continued walking.

He stopped right behind her and placed his hand on the side of her head and smoothed back her hair and said, "I know you've been having nightmares…darling you know if it really bothers you that you can tell me about it."

Jean looked straight ahead, would not move her head in either direction, only answered with a close-mouthed, "Mm-mm", followed by an open-mouthed, "Don't want to."

He wouldn't push it, not now anyway. He stole a quick kiss from her and said, "If you change your mind, you know where to find me."

"I know," she replied. Then she locked her hands together behind her head and tilted her head down with her eyes closed and suppressed a yawning groan under her breath. When she opened her eyes and straightened herself, she said to Murdock, "Come on, let's get this place cleaned up, I want to get down to the other floors, I've got an idea."

* * *

Face grumbled to himself as he got down on his hands and knees and crawled along beside the bed in the room and picked up the box of nails that he'd dropped and recollected them one and two at a time. He about contorted himself getting his face down against the floor to look under the bedstead. Too dark to tell. He got up on his knees and grabbed a flashlight and then got down flat against the floor again and shone it under the bed. Sheesh, had to clean up down here as well. He grimaced as he felt along through the cobwebs and dust bunnies as he pulled out the concealed nails and put them back in the box. Then he reached into the breast pocket of his jacket and took out a handkerchief to wipe his hands off with. _Why_ Hannibal had stuck him with the job of cleaning the bedrooms on the second floor was beyond him, he was _not_ a janitor, this was _not_ his thing, give him anybody to con and anything to retrieve that others could not, _that_ was his thing, preferably if he could do it from a leather chair in a high class office and…

A floorboard creaked from behind him and he suddenly had a petrifying feeling that somebody was in the room with him, he spun around and fell back on his seat and saw Jean standing over him.

"Whack!" she brought her arm down in a single chopping motion, "You're down but are you dead yet?"

"Jean!" Face yelled exasperatedly as he felt his heart racing, "What the hell are you talking about?"

She took a step closer to him and said, as if she wasn't really talking to him but just thinking out loud, "I've just split your skull open with a hatchet, are you still able to scream? Is there time? Are you already dead or does it take another blow? And another, _and_ another…how soon are you dead before I stop making your skull cave in?"

Oh boy, he didn't even know what to make of this one, so he called out the door, "MURDOCK!"

Jean continued to ignore him and looked down at herself, "Right after the first blow there'd be blood splatter, blood everywhere, _how_ much of it is on me? And there's no bathtub, how do I clean that off?"

"MURDOCK!" Face yelled again, absentmindedly scooting back to get away from her.

A few seconds later, Murdock came into the room at a pace as if everything was normal.

"Well?" Jean asked.

Murdock shook his head, "No good, if I can't hear you down the hall, there's no way anybody could hear that outside."

"Probably just as well, the windows were being washed in and out, they'd be closed _just_ like they are now," Jean nodded towards the closed window in the bedroom.

"Would somebody mind explaining to me what the _hell_ is going on?" Face asked as he grabbed hold of one of the bed's posts and used it to pull himself to his feet.

"Just a little mental deduction," Jean said as she went to the window and threw it open and looked out, "Haven't you heard? I'm getting into the scriptwriting business."

"Well congratulations but what the hell has that got to do with this?" Face asked.

"Needed a visual aid," Jean said, "Reconstructing the scene of the crime."

Face turned to Murdock and asked him almost nonchalantly, "Have you guys been using those toxic cleaners with the windows closed?"

"Nah it's fine, Faceman," Murdock assured him, "Don't worry about it."

Face resisted the urge to point out _any_ time somebody told him _not_ to worry, that's _exactly_ what he did. He excused himself and promptly left the room, hoping that whatever insanity had hit these two wasn't communicable.

"Well what do you think, Saint?" Murdock asked.

Jean turned back from the window and shook her head, "Well it served its initial purpose, we got a laugh out of Face…but it won't work…I can't use it…"

"What's the matter with it?" he asked.

"Nothing wrong with _it_," she told him, "I just can't get a handle on it like I did. I think I lost it."

In truth, another idea had taken over in its place, and she planned to get started on it that night, but she'd decided _not_ to tell Murdock about it. She wasn't sure what his reaction would be, and she didn't want to chance her luck with him just yet.

* * *

Murdock slammed his hip against the side of the Space Invaders console in his game room and stuck his tongue out at the lit up screen that announced the game was over and he had lost.

"I'll get you _next_ time," he told it menacingly.

He had to admit, the way the machines had come set up ready to play without coins, he certainly saved a small fortune on them with the way he played them. He was debating whether to play it again or to go over to the Tron console, when her realized now that the game was over, he could hear something from somewhere else in the house.

He opened the door to the game room and stuck his head out, it was the clack-clack-clack-clack of Jean's typewriter downstairs, and it sounded like she was typing up a storm. Murdock tried to stay out of her way when she was writing because he'd seen her tear up half a dozen attempts at a rough draft already for lack of concentration and consistency. But the way he could hear her pounding the keys now, it sounded like the work was being done by somebody possessed. He stayed at the head of the stairs and shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he considered his options; if Jean was on a roll, he didn't want to bother her, but all the same…well, surely one peek couldn't hurt, could it? He'd just look in on her and then come back up, he wouldn't say a word to her.

Murdock favored sliding down the banister as means to reach the first floor unheard, in lieu of trying to keep his sneakered feet from making the steps creak. If he'd made any noise in the landing it was undoubtedly drowned out by the constant clack-clack-clack-clack-clackity-clack-clack-clack -CLANG-prrrrrrooooong, and repeat clack-clack-clack-clack-clack.

Murdock tiptoed over to the dining room and looked in the entranceway and saw Jean sitting at the table punching the keys maniacally and now he noticed she was also _laughing_ maniacally as she continued to pound out whatever she was working on. As Murdock took in the full sight before him, he also realized that Jean was just throwing every fresh paper into the air as soon as she removed it from the typewriter and let it fly through the air and spiral down and land somewhere on the floor. The floor was covered in papers and it looked like Jean had been at this for quite some time, possibly a better part of the whole evening.

"Jean?" he asked as he cautiously made his way into the room, "You alright?"

Jean's only response was to knock her chair so far back that it tipped over and she fell on the floor, still laughing. Murdock rushed over to her and knelt down beside her to see if she was hurt; Jean had tears streaming down her face and now it was impossible to tell if she was laughing or crying or both. Murdock grabbed at one of the sheets of paper lying on the floor and tried reading it. It was gibberish and it was also page 27, Murdock sifted through the pile until he came to the page numbered 1, and found the working title for it.

Bac-bac bac-si, a rough translation into English from Vietnamese, he took it as roughly meaning she was trying to say 'Shoot the Doctor' or 'Shoot the Medic'; bless her heart, there was only so much that could be done with a regular typewriter, the proper pronunciation marks could never be done as required. Jean had even put a tagline under it: Not the stuff nightmares are made of, the stuff that makes nightmares. Well, he had to give her credit, she knew how to try for catchy. He looked down at Jean and noticed she was starting to quiet down and seemed to be trying to stick her hand into her mouth as she fell asleep. Murdock grabbed Jean and pulled her up enough that he could pick her up and put her on the couch to sleep, then he crawled around on the floor picking up the pages by numbered order, and tried putting them altogether so he could fully read what she'd been so hot on getting done.

Murdock found himself sitting up for he didn't know how long, he was sucked in from the words FADE IN; one thing he noticed that was impossible to ignore, the script, and it _was_ a script, this time Jean had hit that floor running, everything was in place, all the interiors, exteriors, POVs, cut tos, close ups, etc., he also noted that it was full of military jargon he hadn't heard since he was back in Vietnam. Unless he talked in his sleep and wasn't aware of it, there had to be something wrong somewhere; this wasn't stuff that Jean would've picked up during her own brief stint in the Army, not with terms like AFVN, GVN, ao-dai, Co Cong, co van, etc., the odd part was that they seldom seemed to be in place anywhere, they were stamped over pre-existing type like Jean had sent the roll back half one movement and typed over them and then returned downward. He also noticed that she seemed to have hit the italic key ten times for words and terms like 'Agency' and 'DCI'. That in itself he didn't know what to make of, but reading through the actual script was even weirder.

The words barely clung together in coherency, it was like a bad medication trip at the V.A. almost, from what Murdock could decipher of it, the plot involved an army ba who agreed to a mission returning to Saigon to clear her husband of war crimes. Along the way the scene transgressed and became comparable to the opening garden club meeting from 'The Manchurian Candidate', only instead of old ladies turning into Russians, the protagonist found herself present but unnoticed in a hospital gallery and watched as Cong doctors brought in captured GIs to experiment on. There was also mention of an escaped General who was wanted for execution since he had become a double veteran at the expense of one of the female Cong soldiers. By the time Murdock finished reading he was on the line between engrossed and sickened. There was mention of American soldiers blown away by men in their own choppers deliberately, and mention of experiments that involved the Vietnamese using America's own defoliants against them by returning them to the U.S. under the guise of being American made hypodermic medical supplies.

Murdock turned and looked at Jean who hadn't moved since being placed on the couch. She lay on her back, her eyes closed, her mouth just the tiniest bit open to breathe, an almost contented look on her face. Murdock reached over and patted her head and said almost sympathetically, "Oh darling, what've you done and got yourself into?"

* * *

The next morning, Jean sat on the couch wide eyed as she skimmed over the script pages, dumbfounded, she asked Murdock, "_I_ wrote this?"

"Yes," he answered as he watched to see how she reacted.

Jean flipped one page over and glimpsed at the other and told him, "I thought it was a dream," she tossed it to the floor and said, "I dreamt I was typing it, I don't remember _what_ I was typing…I knew it at the time, or thought I did…this doesn't make any sense, Murdock."

"I know it doesn't," he said, "But it doesn't make sense for different reasons than what you're thinking."

She looked up at him curiously, "What do you mean?"

He walked over to her and sat down beside her and explained, "Darling, some of the things you punched up last night, if there's _any_ truth to them, they would've been classified and concealed courtesy of the Army and the government…there's no way anybody could've found out about them…so how did you?"

Her eyes had a minor look of panic for a second, then she composed herself and asked him almost jokingly, "You believe in ghosts?"

Two trains of thought went off simultaneously, and collided, and he picked the first one he could clearly think of, "Your uncle?"

Jean folded her arms against herself and clutched her hands to her biceps as if she were cold, "He used to try and tell me about what went on in Vietnam…my parents didn't want him filling my head with all that…after he died, I started to wonder if maybe I didn't pay enough attention when he talked, I probably didn't since I didn't really understand what was going on. I don't know if now…if I've tapped into something he told me and I forgot…or if he's talking to me from the grave now. I just don't know."

Murdock took that into consideration, and asked her, "What kind of stuff do you remember him telling you about?"

She thought about it and told him, "I do remember him saying something about…no heroes…not anywhere…he never went into many details but he said he spent about as much time fighting against his own men as the enemy…always wondered what the hell they were doing there?"

"A lot of the guys in 'Nam wondered the same thing," Murdock said, "It's called a draft."

"It's called the government and the U.S. military playing head games with everybody as usual," Jean replied.

"Well, there's that too," he said, "Jean…do you know why you kept typing all these references to the CIA?"

She shook her head, "I don't know why I typed any of it…just throw it out, will you? Get rid of if it…I don't want to see it."

"You got it," he said as he collected the pages. He leaned over and kissed Jean, who was completely unresponsive to it, and said to her, "Go on up to bed, I'll call Hannibal and tell him you're not coming in today."

"I don't want to do that," she said, "I don't want to have to tell him why."

"I'll tell him the truth," Murdock said, "You're overworked and need to rest, he already knows it anyway."

Jean slowly got up and grumbled something as she headed for the stairs. Once Murdock knew she was upstairs, he gathered up the script pages, arranged them in numerical order, stuffed them in a giant manila envelope, addressed it to Hannibal, licked a bunch of stamps for it and put it on the mailbox. He was going to have the Colonel read it over and see if he could make anything out of it. He had just come back in when he heard Jean calling down the stairs, so to cover he called out the door, "Billy, you stay out of that tree! I'm not coming up to get you down again!"

"Murdock," Jean tiredly said as she came down the stairs.

"Yes, hon?" he asked as he turned towards her.

Jean stood with her eyes nearly closed and her mouth hanging open like she couldn't breathe, and in a tired little voice she asked him, "What's a double veteran?"

Murdock felt his intestines drop down to his feet. He took two steps over to her and placed his hands on her, in effect pinning her arms to her sides and he asked her, "You trust me, darling? You trust my judgment, if I say something you believe it?"

"You know I do," she said.

He nodded somberly and said, "Then just trust me it's not anything you need to know about, you won't be any better for it if you did."

This wasn't a position they'd ever been in; any disgusting details Jean usually already knew, or if not, Murdock didn't have any trouble telling her because he knew she'd get it. But this time he refused…there were damn few things left that she hadn't been exposed to, if at all possible he would prefer to maintain _some_ innocence to her. Luck must've been on his side because Jean didn't fight his answer, didn't argue with him, just slowly nodded her head and said with a tired smile, "Alright, Murdock."

He cupped his hands on the sides of her face and said, "Go on up to bed, I'll be with you in a minute."

Once she'd gone up again, and Murdock was satisfied that she'd stay there, he looked up to the ceiling and shook his finger at it as he said, "Uncle, you better leave her alone…if you're trying to tell somebody about what happened back there you better find a new outlet for it…" he started to walk away and then stepped back and resumed wagging his finger as he added, "She's already been through too much, don't push her any closer to the edge."

* * *

"What do you make of it, Hannibal?" Murdock asked that night when he had a chance to get over to the others' house to consult the Colonel on the matter.

Hannibal looked over the last page and asked Murdock, "Where's the rest of it?"

"That's all she got off before she hit the floor," Murdock said, "But what do you think?"

"Sounds like one for Ripley's," he answered, "Who's this General she keeps talking about?"

"I don't know," Murdock said, "I don't understand any of it, not _really_."

Hannibal skipped back to a previous page and commented, "Disguising the Rainbow Agents as vaccinations…criminal genius…and who's to say it's wrong? It's too bad she can't finish it, it'd be a blockbuster, I'm sure of that."

"You think this is stuff her uncle _really_ saw in 'Nam?" Murdock asked.

"Unfortunately, Captain," Hannibal said as he handed the script back to the pilot, "The only one who knows that, is dead."

Murdock looked to Hannibal and the Colonel didn't miss the borderline murderous look on the Captain's face as he explained, "She started asking me about what that General's supposed to have done to that woman soldier…I couldn't tell her."

Hannibal nodded sympathetically but told Murdock, "It's probably nothing she's not already familiar with."

"I'm not telling her," Murdock insisted.

"Nobody's saying you need to."

Murdock looked at him with melancholic but determined eyes and said, "I want to be understood, Hannibal…you know, it gets easy to forget after a while that Jean's not like us, she hasn't seen the things we have, she hasn't lived through what we did…now, she's definitely been through hell all her own…" he shook his head, "She doesn't need a walkthrough of ours as well…maybe I'm wrong for it but if I can see fit to spare her _any_ gory details that she's better off not knowing…I'll do it."

Hannibal nodded supportively, "It's a commendable choice, Captain."

Murdock shook his head, "Not a choice…if you love somebody you don't put them through that."

Hannibal smiled at him, "You're going to make a great husband."

"If the day ever comes," Murdock replied.

Hannibal's smile disappeared, "Now don't tell me _you're_ having doubts about it."

Murdock looked down at the floor and nervously ground the toe of his sneaker against the tiling, "Not doubts…just…" he looked up and said, "Well Colonel…you know that it…before…" his hands did more talking than he could actually bring himself to, and Hannibal was used to Murdock's fiddling gestures over the years to piece together what he was trying to say. "It's just been a long time, you know, Colonel?"

Hannibal nodded, he knew what Murdock was trying to get at; being a patient in the V.A. for 10 years didn't leave him a lot of opportunities for relationships, especially long term ones, more specifically the closer, more intimate ones.

"Are you…" Hannibal tried to think how to handle this situation, "_Worried_ about something, Captain?"

"Well…" Murdock dragged his feet, and his answer, "Nothing on my side, Colonel…at least I don't think so. It's hard to explain…it's just that we've gotten along so well up till now…is that going to change? It was one thing being married just as a cover, it wasn't _real_, but this time it will be, and then things _are_ going to change…is that going to make it better or worse between us?"

"Ohhh," Hannibal slowly nodded, "Have you talked to her about this?"

Murdock shook his head, "Haven't had much of a chance to, especially lately."

"I see," he replied, "Well, I think we'll be able to fix that soon, some of the people who come to the restaurant were picked up by their families today, a couple more days and we ought to have the house ready for the rest of them, after that I'm sure we can arrange something for you two."

Murdock nodded uncertainly, "Thanks, Colonel…I really appreciate it. I'd like to be able to find out just _where_ exactly we both stand on this."

* * *

Hannibal checked his watch again. Ordinarily he'd be the most patient person on the Team but tonight he felt like _he_ was the one who had to talk to Jean. He didn't know _why_ he felt so anxious, he knew that the odds were Murdock wouldn't tell him tonight how things went; more likely the Captain would call him tomorrow and fill him in on everything. Still, he couldn't shake this nagging feeling that had come over him that before the night was over he'd be hearing from Murdock. More than once he found himself close to the phone for one reason or another, and he decided to get away from it before anybody noticed; he went into the living room and planted himself on the couch and forced himself to try taking an interest in the fight on TV.

"Well," Face said as he came in, with B.A. close behind him, "I've been going over the latest number of people we have frequenting the restaurant and I estimate that if all goes according to plan, we ought to be out of this particular branch of charity business by the end of the week."

"Good," Hannibal said, "Though that still leaves the question what's going to happen to everybody who comes _after_ them given that the shelter's closed?"

"Ah, well," Face told him, "I think I managed to get a large enough donation that once we take out the expenses for the boarding house, the restaurant, not to mention each of us getting paid a small fee for our services, that we can use what's left as a sizeable anonymous donation to get the shelter up and running again, with some improvements."

Hannibal tilted his head back and laughed, "I like the way you think, Face."

"Yeah well," Face put his notepad down and straightened the knot in his tie with one hand, "If it's all the same to you, Hannibal, I think I'm going to cut out and see if I can salvage what's left of the night with Tammy."

"Not so fast, Lieutenant," Hannibal said, "First I want to stop by Lin Duk Coo's place and make sure Decker hasn't found him."

"You really think Decker's going to be interested in Lin?" Face asked.

"I'm sure Decker knows that Lin saved our lives in the camp, and if he knows that Lin's here in the United States, he could very well make a point of imposing his own method of the third degree on him to get a location out of Lin about where we are."

Face sighed, "Alright, so long as it doesn't take too long, I'd like to get _some_ enjoyment out of tonight before it's back to the salt mines tomorrow."

"Man, quit whining," B.A. said as they headed out the front door and to the van, "You take people's orders, you ain't in the kitchen cooking the food with Lin and that crazy fool."

"Oh speaking of which," Face turned to Hannibal, "Did you hear Murdock's latest idea? He wanted to supply some live music when people are eating, he came in the other day with a _banjo_! Now where the hell did he find that?"

Hannibal listened to Face and B.A. jibber-jabber back and forth about the pilot for a few minutes after they got out on the road and was just about to calmly suggest they both shut up, when the van's mobile phone rang, and they all looked to each other. Hannibal finally picked up the receiver and said into it, "Hello?" There was a slight pause, then he said again, louder, "HELLO?" and tried to hear something. Face and B.A. looked at the Colonel and tried to gauge by his reactions what was going on.

"Jean?" Hannibal said, and stuck a finger in his other ear, "Jean where are…you're _what_?! Where? …Is Murdock alright? Jean? Jean!"

"What's wrong, man?" B.A. asked.

"She dropped the phone, she can't hear me," Hannibal said, "We gotta turn around, Jean said she and Murdock were attacked."

"What? By who?" Face asked.

* * *

Anybody who had ever been out to Jean's home knew that her neighbors were few and far between. A couple blocks short of her house though, the other three members of the A-Team quickly spotted her car parked at the curb. In one of the yards in the middle of the block they saw two figures sprawled out on the sidewalk; they also saw that the house behind them had its lights on, its front door wide open at first glance looked like it had been ransacked.

They found Murdock knocked unconscious, laid out on his back, and Jean was half curled on her side groaning and moaning as she clutched her hands around her stomach, based on her positioning she had just managed to crawl out the door and down the porch steps after getting off the phone with Hannibal.

"Jean, are you alright?" Hannibal reached his hands out to get a better look at her but as soon as he touched her she started screeching under her breath and tried to stop him, "What happened?"

Jean kept her teeth gritted and her mouth shut for a few seconds before she tried to explain. Loudly sucking in pained gasps of air she told him, "We were driving by…saw somebody kick the door in…heard people screaming so we came to help…then they ambushed us."

"What did they look like?" Face asked.

Jean didn't answer, she looked to Murdock and said, "He tried to take one of them, but they beat the crud out of him and knocked him out…then they got me…an ambulance came and picked up the couple living here, they were older, I don't think they got it as bad…"

"And they didn't take you too?" Face asked.

"We were in the house," Jean explained, "They didn't see us…Murdock got up long enough to get out here, then he passed out again. They didn't take anything, they just broke in and attacked, just like Face was reading about in the newspapers."

Hannibal helped Jean up, and as soon as she was on her feet she leaned into him and murmured into his ear so the others wouldn't hear, "Hannibal, would you mind taking me to the hospital?" and in an even lower voice she explained, "During the fight I got kicked _really_ hard…several times, and if I have a choice on how I leave this world, I really would rather _not_ go out like Virginia Rappe."

Hannibal noticed that Jean's hands had moved lower than her stomach now and she was gritting her teeth to keep from screaming from the pain.

"Alright kid, just give me a minute and I'll run you up there…go get in the car," he told her.

He went over to the others and saw that B.A. had managed to revive Murdock, but the pilot still lay on the ground and seemed disoriented, though he didn't seem to have any noticeable injuries.

"Captain, you alright?" Hannibal asked.

"F-f-fine, Colonel, just let me get through to the control tower and we'll be ready to land," Murdock said weakly.

"Sounds like his usual crazy self to me," B.A. said.

"I don't think he has a concussion, Hannibal," Face added.

"Okay, look," Hannibal told the others, "I'm going to take Jean up to the hospital to be examined, I don't think Murdock's in as bad a shape so get him home and see what you can do for him, and see if he remembers anything from the attack."

"Right," the other two men said.

Hannibal turned around and about jumped out of his skin when he saw Jean standing right behind him. Apparently she had come back from the car and crept up behind him.

"Hannibal," she said weakly, but loud enough for the three men to hear her, "Hannibal, those men who attacked us…"

"It's alright, Jean, we're going to find out who they are," Hannibal tried to assure her.

But Jean was beyond any consolation, she pulled back from him and said plainly, "They were Green Berets."

"What?" Face asked.

That comment took everybody by surprise, and they all looked to one another in shock.

"Jean, are you sure?" Hannibal asked.

She nodded, "They had their uniforms on…not combat uniforms, their _dress_ uniforms…Hannibal…I don't know who they are, but you've got to find out and you've got to stop them before they kill somebody."


	18. Chapter 18

Murdock lay on the dining room table with his head swimming back and forth as he tried to recall what had happened earlier that night.

"It was too dark to really see much of anybody," he said, "I didn't get a good look at any of them…I think there were 3 of them but there might've been more. It didn't take long for things to get even darker than they already were…next thing I knew, I was on cloud 12 ½ and that's the last thing I remember before getting up again."

"Jean said that the guys who attacked you were in Green Beret uniforms," Face tried to refresh the pilot's memory.

"Could be," Murdock said, "I thought the material felt familiar when I grabbed one of their jackets. But I didn't have long to think about it."

"Any idea how long you were out?" Face asked.

"Maybe 10 minutes, but I'm not really sure," he answered, "And then, I don't know how long I was out the second time once I got outside." He reached up with one arm and rubbed his aching head, his eyes were closed against the bright overhead lights, he probably didn't have a concussion but he still had as he'd put it 'one gonzo headache' and was waiting for the pills he'd taken to start working.

Face and B.A. looked at each other, both knowing that it was hopeless they were going to get any real answers out of Murdock.

Murdock forced his eyes open and asked the others, "Where's Jean? What happened to her?"

"Murdock, I already told you," Face said, "Hannibal took her up to the hospital."

"But why? What for? What's wrong with her?" Murdock asked.

"Ah…I don't know," Face realized, "He just said that he was going to get her examined."

Murdock groaned and let out a small whimper as he closed his eyes again, "They hurt her, I know they did…I wonder how bad it is? Oh…" he moaned, "Poor Jean all alone in a strange room at that hospital…"

"She's not alone, Murdock, Hannibal's staying with her," Face reminded him, then turned to B.A. and murmured, "I wonder what _he's_ found out?"

* * *

"You're sure?" Hannibal asked the doctor when she came out to speak with him.

The woman doctor who had spent a better part of two hours examining Jean and running tests on her, and then getting her settled into a room for the night, explained to Hannibal, "Everything turned up fine, no internal damage and no signs of trauma…all the same we'd like to keep her overnight for observation."

"But she _was_ assaulted," Hannibal reminded her, "What was the extent of _that_ damage?"

"Well she'll definitely be in pain for a few days and she'll probably walk funny for a while," the doctor told him, "Other than that, there doesn't seem to be anything you'd need to worry about."

Hannibal was quick to note, "But you _still_ want to keep her here overnight and check on her."

"Strictly as a precaution."

"Alright, now when you say no damage and no trauma," Hannibal cleared his throat and leaned in towards the doctor to quietly add, "She's engaged to be married, is everything going to be alright there?"

"Absolutely," the doctor told him.

Hannibal let out a sigh of relief and replied, "Good. Now, can I see her?"

"Yes you may, but I wouldn't advise you staying long, she needs to rest," she said.

Hannibal murmured under his breath, "Who're you telling?" as he took off in the direction for Jean's hospital room.

He reached the door and as he turned the knob and slowly opened it he noticed that the room was dark, and he could also hear what sounded like Jean crying inside. He went in and made his way over to the bed and asked her, "What's the matter, kid, haven't they given you anything for the pain yet?"

Jean had her head down and one hand covering half of it, she wouldn't look up at him.

Hannibal placed one hand on the bed's railing and said, "The doctors said it wasn't anything serious, but I know that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt." He reached further over and lightly touched her face. "They don't want you having a lot of visitors tonight, but tomorrow we can get you home and then you _know_ Murdock's going to fawn all over you, your own personal nursemaid…" he chuckled and added, "Well, what more can you ask for in a husband?"

Jean sucked in a shaky breath and told Hannibal, still refusing to make eye contact with him, "I'm not marrying Murdock, I can't marry him."

It took a few seconds for her words to register in Hannibal's brain, and then he about fell back in the chair, "What? What do you mean?"

"I can't marry him, Hannibal…"

He tried to make some sense out of what she was saying, what could possibly have come up so suddenly that…ohhh…he felt his mouth twist into a grimace as he considered the most logical possibility and he said, "If it's about what happened tonight, Jean, the doctors said you're going to be alright, they said…"

"It's not about that," Jean looked up at him finally, behind the tears her eyes were lit in a fit of rage and hysteria as she said to him, "Why do you do it? It doesn't make one bit of difference…if tonight proved anything it's that there's no point in the work you do. You can't stop the crooks, there are too many, they're always out there, and there are more where they came from. It's…it's the statistic that they talk about, you know? One death is a tragedy, millions are just a statistic, it doesn't matter how many people you help because there'll always be more that you can't, you'll never catch up." She shook her head and told him, "I know you don't see it that way…you think there's a purpose to be served in your work, you think you're actually making a difference, you let all these helpless people get under your skin and you step in and help them. I've tried to think the same way, Hannibal, but I can't, there are just too many of them. I've been trying to figure out what's wrong with me and I finally realized what it is…there are just too many people, Hannibal…we can't equally divide our help or our concerns to all of them, instead there are just so many that I've gotten to the point I just can't care anymore." Her voice had managed to stay strong through her rant, but that last line was where it fell apart.

"I can't care about any of them anymore…" she continued, "And that's no attitude for a hero to have, not one for the wife of a hero either, not even a friend. I knew I never belonged with you, this just confirms it."

Hannibal stood by her bedside and listened to all of this, not saying one word, not moving one muscle, just calmly hearing her out and letting her say what had to be said. When it was finally over, he reached over the railing and pulled her into a hug and told her, "You're just upset, Jean, you got hurt tonight, _again_, and you got angry, it's understandable, we all know what it's like. You'll feel better tomorrow and you'll be able to think straighter."

"I won't be here tomorrow," she said as she leaned her head against the crook of his arm, she looked up and started to say something else, but stopped, and screamed at the top of her lungs and the next thing Hannibal knew, she had wrestled out of his grip and was trying to climb the wall over her bed.

Hannibal turned around to see what was the matter and saw a nurse had come in and was preparing a syringe.

"What's that?" he asked.

"Standard dose of morphine," she answered as she pressed the plunger to let the air bubble out.

"Oh no you don't," Hannibal gripped her wrist, "You're not giving her that."

The nurse called for security, all the while Hannibal continued to drive the point home that Jean was not going to get the shot.

"She is my daughter and I'm telling you she is _not_ getting the shot," Hannibal told the nurse.

She struggled with him and replied, "It's doctor's orders, it's after 10 o' clock."

"What the hell is this, 'Terms of Endearment'?" Hannibal asked as he let her go and sent her falling back against the wall.

The same doctor who Hannibal had spoken to earlier stepped in and demanded to know, "Mr. Smith, what the hell do you think you're doing harassing the staff?"

"She can't have the morphine," Hannibal said as he pointed back to Jean, "She's a recovering addict, you want to send all her progress out the window?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Smith, we didn't know."

"Well now you do, so get her something else!" A thought occurred to Hannibal and he added, "Get her a sedative, she needs to sleep tonight."

"Yes, Mr. Smith."

The doctor and the nurse both left the room and Hannibal went back over to the bed where Jean had given up trying to climb up the wall but now was holding onto the bars in the railing like she was a prisoner. She didn't respond to his touch, he placed his hand on the top of her head and stroked his fingers through her hair.

"They're going to give you something to make you sleep tonight," he explained to her, "And when you wake up tomorrow we're going to get you checked out of here."

She turned to him and said, "Don't do this to me, Hannibal, don't let them do it."

"Jean, you've been running on overdrive for weeks, you need to sleep," he told her, "It'll be alright, trust me."

A new look of horror came over her face and she asked him, "Is that why it happened? Is that why they got away? They had Murdock down, knocked out, I tried to help him…is that why…"

"Jean, you can't blame yourself for what happened tonight, if these _were_ Green Berets, they know what they're doing, you know that as well as I do," Hannibal said, "You two are both still alive, and you're both going to be alright, that's all we could ask for."

When Jean saw the nurse returning with a new syringe, she let out an involuntary whimper and tried to crawl back towards the corner of the bed, making herself as small as possible. Hannibal held her still while the nurse prepared her and delivered the injection. Jean screamed as she got it; Hannibal could tell it wasn't so much because it hurt, sure it hurt, but it wasn't _that_ kind of scream, he could feel her emotions coursing through him, betrayal, anger, pain, a lethal cocktail for anybody. He continued to hold onto her until the sedative took effect and he could feel her body relaxing against his, then he laid her out right on the bed and got her covered up. He left the dark room with a final glance back to the woman laying in the bed, strung out to the point of sleep. He hated to do it, but he knew it was necessary.

* * *

Hannibal had barely stepped in the front door and closed it behind him when he was bombarded by B.A., Face and Murdock, who was more coherent now but also was trying to hold an icepack onto the back of his head.

"How is she, Colonel?" Murdock asked, "Is it bad, is it serious?"

"Murdock, calm down," Hannibal gestured with his hands, "Jean's alright…the doctors said there was no serious damage."

"Well, then where is she?" Murdock asked, "Why didn't she come home with you?"

"The doctors want to keep her overnight strictly as a precaution," Hannibal told him, "She'll be sore for a few days but she's going to be just fine."

Murdock let out a loud and shaky exhale and said, "Oh thank God," as he staggered back over to the dining room.

"Was she able to tell you anything more?" Face asked.

"No, and I had her sedated so she'll get at least _one_ full night's sleep," Hannibal said, "What about Murdock?"

"The fool remembers even less now than when he first woke up," B.A. answered.

"That's not true," Murdock came stomping back into the hall, "I remember fine! …I just couldn't tell who attacked us. But could it be the Green Berets? Yeah, I guess so, they seemed to know how to fight like them."

"But that doesn't make any sense!" Face insisted, "Whoever heard of Green Berets committing home invasions?"

"Whoever heard of home invaders who don't take anything?" B.A. asked, "And only bust in to hurt the people living there?"

"That's a good question, B.A.," Hannibal said, "That says something…either this is personal…or it's not personal."

"Well that really clears things up, Hannibal," Face sarcastically replied.

"Either they know the people they are attacking, or it's all random," Hannibal said.

"Terrorists," Murdock said.

"Maybe, but there's something that bothers me," Hannibal said.

"_Only_ something?" B.A. asked.

"When Face was reading about those break-ins in the newspaper," Hannibal explained, "Jean was going in and out of sleep and said 'Green Berets', _how_ could she have known?"

"Did you ask her about it?" Face asked.

"I didn't think of it, or I wouldn't have had her sedated," Hannibal said.

Murdock scratched the top of his head and said reassuringly, "You did the right thing, Colonel, you did what you had to."

"Thanks, Murdock," Hannibal said unenthusiastically, "I wish I felt better about it." He turned to the Captain and forced a small smile as he said, "Say Murdock, do you feel like taking a little ride with me?"

"Where' we going?" Murdock asked.

* * *

Jean knew that she had been asleep earlier, she didn't remember actually waking up but she knew she was awake, very close to falling asleep, just not quite there. She felt a stabbing pain going up her arm, hundreds of tiny pins and needles jabbing her every which way clear up her elbow. After a few minutes it occurred to her that her hand was asleep, and she tried flexing her fingers to get the circulation going again, but she couldn't, something had pinned her arm down to the bed.

Panicked, she opened her eyes and turned onto her side to see what was holding her down, and then she let out a shaky breath of relief. It was only Murdock who had fallen asleep on the edge of the bed, and who for some reason Jean noticed, was dressed in a doctor's uniform, complete with a mask hanging from his neck, and a green cap and a set of white gloves that had all been peeled off and tossed onto the chair by the bed.

Jean didn't know _what_ Murdock was doing here, but she was grateful for the company, even if he was asleep, still she needed to get the blood flowing in her arm again. She tried jerking it out from under him but surprisingly, even for as scrawny as he was, his back on her arm was like a hydraulic press. Jean planted her feet against his side and used them for leverage to push him up enough to yank her arm out. Murdock noticed his backside leaving the mattress momentarily and he woke up and turned onto his side.

"Hey Jean!"

"Shhhh!"

Murdock clapped his hands over his mouth and waited to see if anybody could come in. Nobody did. He lowered his hands and said in an excited whisper, "They said no more visitors, so Hannibal decided the doctor disguise would be the best approach."

"Oh, I'm so glad you're here, Murdock," she said.

Murdock sat up on the bed and reached over to hug Jean, careful not to hurt her, "How're you doing, Jean? Are you alright? Are you in any pain?"

"I'm fine, Murdock," she responded, "Are you?"

"Have you ever known me not to be?" he asked.

Jean got out a hysterical giggle and said, "I was so worried when I saw you get knocked out."

"What a pair we must be," he said, "I was worried about what happened to you _when_ was unconscious."

Jean pulled back from him and said, suspiciously, "Hannibal told you?"

"He said that you just had to stay here overnight and then you can come home tomorrow," he said, "He said that the doctors said you were alright, _are_ you alright?"

"Well…" she said, "It's not going to be much fun standing up or sitting down the next few days, but I should be alright."

"Oh I'm relieved to know that," Murdock told her, "You'd be surprised how much you can worry when you're unconscious."

"I'm sorry, Murdock."

He blinked, "What've you got to be sorry about?"

"About everything," she said, "I'm sorry we ever met."

Murdock tried to laugh but he didn't get the joke, "What're you talking about?"

Jean relayed parts of her earlier outburst to Hannibal, and then waited on edge to hear what Murdock's response to that would be. He looked at her and calmly explained, "Believe me, darling, anybody who's ever tried to help anybody else knows exactly what you feel. It's true, every time you turn around there are new jerks to replace the old, maybe even more…but you have to consider it from the other side."

"Which is?" she asked.

"The people helped…get rid of their problem once, do it _right_, and you never have to worry about it again," Murdock said, "Of all the clients we've had in all the years we've been in business, never once did they have to call on us for a second problem, _that's_ a difference, _that_ matters."

"Can't help them all though," Jean shook her head, "How do you pick?"

"Well we get lucky there," Murdock said, "Since a lot of people don't think we're real we don't have a lot of potential clients to sift through at any one time."

"Still leaves a lot of people that aren't helped, that can't be helped," Jean said, "You can't let yourself think about things like that but how do you not?"

Murdock looked at her and then shifted his gaze and looked down at the bed and replied, "You can't help thinking about it…especially in a war, for all the people you save, how many more do you fail? After a while you've just got to stop thinking about it or…"

"You go crazy?" Jean asked.

"Well…for lack of a better choice of words, yes," Murdock answered.

She shook her head, "I don't care, I meant what I told Hannibal, I've just reached a point where I find it impossible to care anymore."

Murdock looked at her for a minute but didn't say anything, all the while she looked down at her lap. He leaned over, kissed her on the cheek and said, "I don't believe that for one minute, Jean."

"No?" she asked testily.

"Nope," he answered, "Jean, everybody has their moments of doubt, in everything, helping people included. It happens, but you'll get over it and move on, and you'll be right back to where you were, trust me, I know."

Jean just shook her head and told him, "I don't think so, Murdock…I can't see it changing."

He shrugged his shoulders and made an indecisive sound and said, "We'll wait and see."

She shook her head again, "No…now I told Hannibal where I stand on this…incase he overlooked that part when he talked to you, it wouldn't be fitting for a member of the A-Team to have a wife who has no confidence in their ability to mash down the crime population." She looked to him and said, "Maybe there's a reason we've put off getting married for so long…" and with that, she scooted over to the far left side of the bed before she bumped the railing, putting a little distance between them, "Maybe you'd be better off without me…find someone else…maybe you _would_ be better off with somebody normal."

Murdock stared at her in disbelief, for a few seconds he was completely flabbergasted, then the words finally came to him and he said to her firmly, "First of all I don't _want_ anyone else and second of all, I sure as _hell_ don't want somebody normal, Jean, I like _you_, I love _you_! I married _you_!" He'd gotten himself worked up and fell back against the pillows doing a little huffing and puffing as he tried to calm down. Jean's only response had been to pull her knees up to her chest and try to put even more space between them while he went off on his little tirade, she looked off to the side, she wouldn't even turn to see him.

"And if you want the _truth_," he said into her ear, and then paused, then told her, "I'm wishing now that I would've taken advantage of when we were married, I should've acted on it long ago."

Jean turned to him, "What?"

"I should've known I couldn't marry someone that I didn't love, that should've been a sign," Murdock told her, "I wish I'd done it long ago…we should've done it that first night, after the fire, you remember? I should've known when I decided we were going to act like we were married…I should've done something about it then, that first time. Would've saved us both a lot of trouble and a lot of pussyfooting around on this matter."

Jean tried not to laugh, "Don't talk like that, you're sounding crazier than usual."

"If I thought it'd do any good I'd drag you out of this bed and carry you to the nearest judge tonight," Murdock told her, "Make it official once and for all, then we could figure out the rest later."

Jean did a move akin to a double take and, grabbing the neck of her hospital gown, "Dressed like this? And look at yourself, they'd think us nuts for sure, they'd have us locked up, they wouldn't marry us."

Murdock leaned over, cupped her face in his hands and kissed her, and told her, "You're the one I love, Jean, you're the one I want to be married to." Then, as if the question just hit him, he pulled back from her and asked, a confused look on his face, "Well what's the matter, don't you love me?"

"Of course I do," she replied, and shook her head, "But that doesn't count for much. Marrying you would be the easy thing, but the easy thing and the right thing are _always_ two different things. You ought to know that." She looked at him and said, "You're a nice guy, Murdock, you could find plenty other women to take my place, somebody better suited for you."

Murdock shook his head, "Wouldn't happen, you know why?"

"Why?"

"You tell me where I'm going to find another woman who can catch on so quickly to my flying lessons, who else would be willing to go _up_ with me in a plane specifically rented for my expertise aeronautic acrobatics, huh? Or how about the time you and Face and I went on that roller coaster over and over and over…and you never got sick once? And _who_ is going to help me irritate Faceman and the big angry mudsucker to no end? Hey," he poked her in the shoulder, "Don't forget, you're the _only_ girlfriend I'll ever have whose claim to fame is that she not only got the drop on our Colonel and beat him at his own knockout sandwich game, but also managed to sucker punch the big angry mudsucker right square in the face. Now _how_ many people do you think would be able to get away with that, let alone live to tell about it? Somebody _better_?" Murdock shook his head, "Not gonna happen, you know as well as I do, that it is impossible to _really_ get involved with somebody, without them finding out about the Team, and you already know all of our ins and outs, you know how everything works."

"Anybody could learn it," Jean insisted.

"But how many of them would stay with it?" Murdock asked, "Take a look around, ain't _any_ of us got a good track record for long-term relationships, that ought to tell you something. And I'll tell you something else."

"What?"

Murdock flopped down on his stomach beside her and pointed out, "Any woman willing to get married purely as a front for when the Army comes sniffing around, and _then_ walks directly into Decker's line of fire with a bullet that's got his own name on it," he shook his head, "Those don't grow on trees, you're a one of a kind, Jean, and that's what I like, you're like _me_."

Jean sighed and said to him, "If you _really_ believe that…if that's what you _really_ think…then I'll stay…" she managed a small, nervous smile and added quietly, "_If_ you'll have me."

Murdock grinned from ear to ear and replied as he wrapped his arms around her, "Oh darling, I gotcha, I _got_ ya." They stayed that way for a few seconds before Murdock broke the silence and added, "There's just one more thing."

"What's that?" Jean asked.

"The matter of actually _getting_ married," he said as he let go of her, "Jean, do you _want_ to get married?"

She shrugged, "I suppose I do, and you?"

He nodded, "_I_ do…I'm just hoping that once we are…I know things are going to change between us, but I wish they wouldn't because I like the way things are between us right now."

Jean nodded silently in agreement as she more or less crawled up into his arms and wrapped hers around his back.

"It's a lot to think about," she finally said.

She could feel Murdock nodding his head against her.

"Of course…" he said slowly and turned his head to look at her, "Did anybody ever say that all the changes had to be made at once?"

Jean thought about it, and said, "I don't think so."

"Well there you go," Murdock told her, "We'll just take our time getting around to them and stretch it out, then it'll be a gradual process and we won't even notice it."

"Sounds like a plan to me," Jean said, "So now what do we do?"

"Well let's see, it's…" Murdock took out his watch and tried reading it in the dark, "3 A.M., Hannibal's going to be coming for us in the morning so I suppose we ought to try getting some sleep."

They each moved around trying to get comfortable on the bed but with no luck.

"Why do they have to make these damn things so uncomfortable?" Jean asked, "And so hard to fit 2 people on?"

"I guess so they don't get any ideas about extending their stay," Murdock told her.

Jean giggled and said to him, "You know what this reminds me of?"

"What?"

"First time I was in the hospital, you stayed the night a day after my surgery," Jean told him.

Murdock thought about it and tried to remember, and he got out a laugh as well. He reached over and touched Jean's shoulder and asked her, "Does this hurt?"

"No," she shook her head.

He reached over and touched her other shoulder, "This hurt?"

"No."

He lowered his hand and touched her arm, "How bout that?"

"Uh-uh."

With a small smile, Murdock pulled her to lean against him and he asked her, "That good?"

Jean nodded.

"Fine," Murdock kissed her on the top of her head and closed his eyes, as they both slowly drifted off to sleep he started humming a few bars of 'Goodnight, Sweetheart'.

* * *

The next morning, Hannibal came to collect them both; Jean was still half asleep from the sedative but they managed to get her up long enough that she was able to dress herself without their assistance so they could head for home without drawing too much attention to themselves. Once there, they got Jean settled on the couch where she stayed and slept until noon when the drugs fully started to wear off. She was slow in coming around, but she managed to ask Hannibal, "You figure out what happened last night?"

"Not yet," he answered, "But I'm working on it."

"Now _there's_ a dangerous sentiment," Jean said as she lay back down and tried going back to sleep.

"That couple who were assaulted last night," Hannibal said, "Went back home after a couple hours at the hospital. We tried getting in and asking them about what happened but they wouldn't give us much to go on."

"Well who's going to believe it?" Jean asked, "It's one thing getting the cops to come out when you've got a common hood trying to break into your house…but who the hell's going to call the cops on the damn Special Forces?"

"We still haven't even determined _why_ they'd be doing this," Face pointed out.

"Maybe it's not Green Berets," Murdock said, "Maybe they just _look_ like them."

"If they were real Green Berets," Jean commented, "Wouldn't we both already be dead?"

"Could be," Hannibal responded, "That all just depends."

"Well how're we going to find out what these guys are after?" Face asked Hannibal, "Why they're attacking the people they are?"

Jean yawned and offered her own two bits, "I suppose if you're going to catch a Green Beret, you have to _think_ like a Green Beret, and in order to _think_ like a Green Beret, you have to _be_ a Green Beret," and with that she fell asleep again.

"She's not entirely wrong," Hannibal told Face.

"Alright, so what's the plan?" Face asked.

Hannibal just smirked at him and said, "Well I don't think you're going to like it."

"That's usually a safe bet," Face replied, "But _what_ is it?"


	19. Chapter 19

Murdock opened the door to Jean's bedroom, came in and started to remove his cap and jacket and saw Face standing by the bed where Jean was seated and asked, "How's it going, Faceman?"

"Not so good, Murdock," Face answered, "I think maybe you better try, I can't get her to eat."

They'd had Jean home from the hospital for two days, the majority of that time she'd spent in bed while she recovered from her assault. She had responded to this decision with absolute defiance; while she wasn't eager to get up and move anytime soon, she didn't talk much when anyone came in to check on her and she had eaten very little the last two days.

"Aww," Murdock came over to the bed and saw Jean sitting cross-legged, propped up against several pillows, and with her head turned to the side and her lips pursed so close together she was about to suck them in, "Come on, Jean, what's the matter, aren't you hungry?" He picked up the plate that hadn't been touched and held it under Jean's nose and told her, "See? I know you like this stuff, it's the same recipe you make all the time, see? You got those country ribs you cook in the crock pot all day so they're falling off the bones, got white rice covered in that homemade barbecue sauce your mother makes, and those little teeny tiny sweet baby peas, all mixed up together like a casserole," at each mention, Jean turned her head in the opposite direction and drew her lips in even tighter.

"Okay, you leave me no choice," Murdock said as he picked up the fork and scooped some of the food onto it and told her, "Here comes the airplane," and started to supply the sound effects for it.

Jean opened her mouth and asked him, "What _kind_ of airplane?"

"A Waco, they're the—" Jean took that opportunity to steal the fork and jab it into his mouth and he about choked on the food. All the while, Jean just sat back against the pillows and smiled at him.

"Very funny," he told her.

"_I_ thought so," she replied.

The door opened again and Hannibal poked his head in and asked, "How ya doing, kid?"

"I'd do better if everybody would _stop_ hovering over me like a bunch of vultures," Jean said, and pointed with both hands to the door, "_Get out_!" Face and Hannibal looked to each other and exchanged confused looks and started to move, Jean repeated again, "Get out, get out, get out-get out-get out!" As Murdock walked past her she grabbed him by his shirt and told him, "Not you, you stay here."

"Okay," Murdock said as he took a step back and flopped down on the bed beside her. He waited until the door was closed and he knew the others were gone to ask Jean, "So how' ya doing, hon?"

Jean pointed to the pillow that was under her and said, "Still sore, but I think by tomorrow I ought to be able to move around without walking like a drunk. Has Hannibal told you guys what his plan is yet?"

"Part of it," Murdock answered, "He's having Amy dig up all the reports of recent home invasions so we can kind of get a handle on what we have to go in as to draw them to us for another attack."

Jean tried repositioning herself and asked Murdock, "You think those guys _were_ Green Berets?"

"Hard to say," he replied, "Just 'cuz you're trained to kill don't mean you act on it every chance you get."

"I know that's right," Jean said as she lay back down, "Then the next questions…_how_ many of these guys are there, where're they from, where do they go after these attacks, how do they get in and out undetected? Hannibal was asking when we pulled up if I noticed another vehicle on the street, I honestly didn't even notice."

Murdock shrugged, "It doesn't matter much anyway, he'll figure out what we need to know and we'll get the answers."

Jean looked at him and he noticed the softer look in her eyes as she told him, "I wish there was something I could do to help."

"You want to help?" Murdock reached over to the nightstand and picked up her decoder ring and handed it to her and said, "Keep this with you while we're gone, that way I won't have to worry so much."

Jean sighed and remarked, "I suppose I should just be grateful my legs didn't give out this time." After a brief pause, she turned to him and asked, "Murdock, would you stay with me tonight?"

He reached over and wrapped one arm around her and responded, "You know I will…there's just one thing I'd like to know," he added, "_Why_ have you been so nasty to the others for the last two days?"

"Well come on, Murdock, I've hardly been off this bed since we got home, I've got to get my fun somewhere," Jean replied humorously.

Murdock laughed and fell back against the mattress, pulling Jean down with him, she laughed with him at first and then let out a sudden, "OW!"

"Sorry, hon," he said with a sheepish look on his face.

"Murdock," Jean said tiredly as she reached over and wrapped her arms around him.

"Yah?"

"I don't think two weeks is going to be enough," Jean said, "When we get married, talk to Hannibal about clearing a month for our honeymoon."

Murdock raised his arms up over hers and rolled onto his back laughing again.

* * *

The next morning, Hannibal got up early and went upstairs to speak to Murdock and Jean about his plan. He took the liberty of showing himself into the room and immediately regretted it when he took one step in and saw Murdock wasn't there, but Jean was and once again, dressed only in her underwear.

"Whoops, sorry kid," he said as he quickly stepped out and turned around.

"Really, Hannibal, don't you ever learn?" Jean asked.

Even with his back to her, Jean could just see the surprised and embarrassed grin on Hannibal's face as he responded, "I swear I didn't see a thing." Then he dropped the smile and asked, "_Where's_ Murdock?"

"Taking a shower," Jean answered, "What do you want?"

He moved his head to the side though he didn't dare turn around and asked her, "How're you feeling?"

"You didn't come up here to ask me that," she said, "Not at 6:30 in the morning."

"I wanted to talk to you two about what we're going to do," he answered.

"We'll be down in a few minutes," Jean told him.

"Right…"

Jean looked down at herself and stopped, then she looked up again and said to him, "Hey Hannibal, I just thought of something."

"What's that?" he asked.

"Why is it if you run around in your underwear, people think you're crazy, but you run around in public in a bikini, which is essentially built the _same_ way as underwear…and that's considered normal and widely accepted?"

Hannibal just shrugged and responded, "You got me, kid, I'm a virgin in that territory."

Jean snorted and remarked, "I find it hard to believe you're a virgin in _any_ territory."

"Ha-ha-ha," he dryly replied.

* * *

Around 7 o' clock, Murdock and Jean went downstairs to see what it was Hannibal wanted to discuss with everybody. On their way down they could hear voices coming from the living room, and when they went in, nothing could prepare them for what they saw. B.A. was seated on the couch shaking his head, Face stood close by also shaking his head, and in the middle of the room stood Hannibal wearing a purple floral pattern old lady dress, standing in a 'well, what do you think?' posture.

Jean started laughing like a banshee and when she was able to actually talk, the first words out of her mouth were, "Hannibal, when Aunt Bee finds out you've been raiding her closet, she's going to stuff you full of her poison pickles!"

Hannibal didn't bother responding to that comment and said only, "I think I've got it figured out."

Jean laughed as she looked him up and down and said, shaking her head, "I don't think you do."

He ignored her again and said, "I had Amy check out all the recent home invasions in the local area…turns out they're all within close proximity to each other. Now, there are a few houses in that area that have rooms to rent, and I think we're going to move in."

"As _what_?" Jean asked.

"If we all go in together we're going to draw the _wrong_ kind of attention to ourselves," Hannibal explained, "So we're going to divide and separate, I'll take one apartment," he walked over to Murdock and placed his hand on the pilot's shoulder as he added, "_With_ my adoring husband," and chuckled at the look on Murdock's face.

"And what about Face and B.A.?" Jean asked.

"B.A.'s going to take a room between ours, now…I had planned for Face and Amy to move in as a newlywed couple."

"If he keeps that up much longer, one of these days he's going to have to actually tie the knot with her," Jean said.

"Turns out," Hannibal said, "Amy won't be available, she's heading out of town on business, so you're up, Jean."

"What?" she asked.

"What!?" Face repeated in obvious shock.

Now it was Murdock's turn to laugh like a wild animal at Hannibal's plan.

"What's it going to prove, though?" Jean asked, "What about _us_ is going to bring in the Special Forces?"

"I'm playing a hunch that it's not so much the people, it's the location," Hannibal said, "I think they're trying to get everybody out of that area."

"Alright, so assuming that's it," Jean said, "Why would the Green Berets be interested in that?"

"When we find that out we'll know who's putting them up to it," Hannibal answered.

"So why am I getting drafted into this?" Jean asked.

"Because," Hannibal explained, "They're more likely to attack where there's more than one person living there…after all no man is going to ignore a threat like that if it means putting his wife at risk."

"And that's why you're going in as Professor Echo?" Jean asked.

"Precisely," he answered.

"Hannibal," she said, "How did you _ever_ get into the habit of dressing up as women?"

"All part of being an actor with a well rounded background," Hannibal said.

"Yeah," Jean cocked her head to the side to look behind him and said, "I'm sure by the time you finish getting into that outfit it'll be a _very_ well rounded one, probably complete with one of those bustles they wore 200 years ago."

"Colonel, if I may?" Murdock offered, "Won't Jean and I be putting ourselves at risk of recognition? They _did_ attack us."

"The question is did they see you?" Hannibal asked, "Would they know you if they saw you again? It was too dark for you to see them, what makes you so sure they'd recognize _you_? I've been going over the details you were able to give us about the night of the attack, now my question is _why_," he pointed to Jean, "Why would any man kick a woman below the belt? It stands to reason that for no longer than they saw you, they might have assumed Jean was a man."

"I guess that's possible," Jean told Murdock, "I never thought about that."

"In any case, even if they _would_ recognize you," Hannibal continued, "They don't know _why_ we're renting the rooms, they won't know that we're setting a trap for them, and they would still fall into it perfectly."

"I hope you're right," Face said, "But Hannibal, do I _have_ to…"

"Yes," Hannibal wouldn't let him finish his griping thought, "And I'm sure that you and Jean will make a _lovely_ couple together."

B.A. just shook his head disapprovingly and grumbled to himself, "Oh man."

"It could be worse, B.A.," Murdock said, "_You_ could be the one married to the Colonel."

B.A. looked at both he and Hannibal and just growled at them.

* * *

The next day, Hannibal, disguised perfectly as a white haired old woman in a long purple dress, nylon stockings and high heeled shoes that miraculously had come in his size, was shown around the apartment he and 'his husband' had planned to move into. Murdock had come, changed out of his usual attire and dressed in a plain, boring suit, with his hair neatly flatted back, the whole time they were looking the place over he had an almost irresistible urge to rip the suit off and run around the brownstone in his underwear, but Hannibal had made a point to remind him beforehand that there _were_ children in the building. They knew that Face and Jean had already moved in across the hall the day before, and that B.A. was on the floor below them, with an ear open to each of their apartments for the first sign of danger. So far everything was coming along just fine.

The man who was renting out the apartments asked Murdock, "Are you sure that this will be an adequate place for you and your…" he looked at Hannibal and tried not to let on how revolting he found the 'woman' to be, "Wife?"

"Oh I'm sure it'll be just _lovely_," Hannibal answered, "It reminds me of our first home when we got married 20 years ago."

"I'm not sure, dear," Murdock said, and to the landlord he asked, "Is this a safe neighborhood?"

"Oh sure, very little crime here," the man answered.

"What about the neighbors?" Murdock asked, "What are they like?"

"Don't get many complaints about them," he said, "Course there're a few new ones…"

And as if on cue they could hear somebody bickering across the hall. Murdock and Hannibal headed out the door with the landlord follow behind them, and they went over to Face's apartment just in time to see the show begin.

Jean stood by the couch tapping one foot angrily, standing with her hands on her hips as she regarded Face, who apparently had just stepped in the door, and she said to him, "Well-well-well, if it isn't the deadbeat, and _where_ the hell do you think you've been the last four hours?"

"Oh come on, honey," Face replied, "I told you I had to work late today."

"Not that it would make much difference," she replied, "Even when you're here it's like you're not here, might as well be a zombie…maybe even a brick wall, I can't ever get a response out of you for anything."

"Now that is not true and you know it," Face said.

"Oh no?" Jean asked, and advanced towards him, "How about that time I answered the door naked and all you could say was 'what's for dinner'?"

"Oh now don't bring that up again," Face said as he slowly started to inch away from her.

"I'll bring up whatever I feel like bringing up," Jean said, "You've been ignoring me."

"Now that is not true," Face told her, "I've just been…a little busy at work."

"_For seven years_?!" Jean asked, and then they were off and running around the couch, Jean chasing after Face, and Face trying to get away from her. As she ran after him, she told him, "You said the day that we got married that you were going to love me for better or worse."

"Yeah well this is _worse_ than I ever bargained for!" Face replied.

Jean switched directions and ran around the opposite way so she met him head on and she slammed Face onto the couch and landed on top of him, driving her elbow into his gut on her way down, knocking a pained groan out of him. Then when she knew she had him subdued, she started climbing and crawling on top of him trying to kiss him, all the while he resisted the best he could and looked like he just wanted to die.

Hannibal nudged Murdock and said loud enough for the landlord to hear, "I say we take the place, with _this_ right across the hall from us, we won't have to get a television for entertainment."

* * *

"Hey B.A., you read me?" Hannibal said into his walkie-talkie later that afternoon.

There was a pause, some static, and the they heard the mudsucker's voice coming through loud and clear, "Yeah I read ya, Hannibal, what's up?"

"We're in," Hannibal said, "And that landlord is definitely in on whatever's going on, tried to talk us out of taking the apartment."

Hannibal tried listening to B.A.'s grumble about running a business but he was having trouble making out what the Sergeant was saying. He turned and saw the reason why, Murdock had his headphones on and was listening to his Walkman, he had the volume up so high that Hannibal could practically hear the words. And then…a light bulb went off.

"Murdock," Hannibal said, "Bring your Walkman over here."

Murdock got up from his chair and went over to the table and asked, "What's up, Colonel?"

"Let me listen to this a minute," Hannibal said as he took the headphones and slipped them on over his ears. Rewinding the tape a few seconds and playing it again he listened to the English version of Nena singing about 99 red balloons.

"Hmm," he said as he pulled the headphones off, and said into his walkie-talkie, "You still there, B.A.?"

"Yeah I'm here, what's up?" B.A. wanted to know.

Hannibal grinned to himself as he answered simply, "I've got another idea."

There was another crackle of static and then Jean's voice came over and said, "Boy you're just _full_ of them today, aren't you, Grandma?"

Hannibal took a few seconds to respond to that one, he pressed down on the 'talk' button and asked, "Something the matter, Jean?"

"You stick me with this whining little girl for two days and want to know if something's the _matter_?" Jean asked.

They could hear some kind of ruckus going on from the apartment across the hall over the walkie-talkie as Face gave Jean a piece of his own mind, and she retaliated, but it was impossible to tell who was saying what. Hannibal just smirked and rolled his eyes and said to them, "Alright, sign off you two, I want to speak to the Staff Sergeant."

Once he knew they were off, he said into the walkie-talkie, "B.A., see if you can get up here without drawing too much attention to yourself, I want to try something."

* * *

Since none of the home invasions ever occurred in the daytime, Hannibal instructed everybody to get some sleep so they'd be fresh for the night watch. It also gave him a chance to get out of his old lady getup for a few hours, for which he was very thankful, those high heels were _killing_ his feet, and he couldn't help wondering what torture expert thought them up in the first place.

There was one bedroom in the apartment Face and Jean were renting, he had taken the couch and left her with the bed, which was unusual for him but Jean was too tired to question it. Though she was tired, she spent a while tossing and turning on the bed trying to get comfortable enough to actually sleep. Just when she'd finally settled down and thought she'd be able to rest, the mattress shifted underneath her as she felt somebody climb on to the other side. She opened her eyes and turned over and saw Murdock seated on the edge, smiling at her.

"Hi darling, miss me?" he asked.

"Murdock, how'd you get in here?" she asked.

"Faceman swapped places with me, he said he'd bunk with Hannibal so I could come over and visit with you," he explained as he pulled back the covers and slipped in beside her, "So how's it been going here?"

"You kidding?" she asked, "It's no wonder Face has never been married, as high maintenance as he is, _no_ woman would have the patience to put up with it."

Murdock chuckled as he inched over closer to her and snaked his arms around her waist to pull her back to him, "Yeah, we love the Faceguy but he's about as high maintenance as a poodle."

Jean kept her eyes closed in hope of falling asleep soon, but said to him, "So Hannibal thinks they're going to attack tonight?"

"That's what he's hoping for anyway."

"And what happens if they do?" she asked.

"Whoever's apartment gets hit first, they sound the alarm, and then the others come in and then the fun begins," Murdock explained, "Then we _fight_."

"Meanwhile where am I?" Jean asked, "You guys _are_ Green Berets so you know how to fight them, I'm not, and I don't."

"If it can be helped, stay out of the line of fire," Murdock advised her, "But if you can't, I'm sure you'll come up with _something_ good." He yawned and added, "Goodnight, Jean."

"Good_night_?" she replied.

* * *

"A fine thing," Face said to Jean later that night as they stood in the kitchen, "We're waiting for a bunch of guerilla apes to bust in here and beat us into the carpet, and _you're_ cooking."

Jean paid him no mind as she turned up the burner under the large saucepan of water, then she looked to him and said, "I don't mind dying but I refuse to do it on an empty stomach, and besides we don't know _when_ they're coming, or even _if_ they're coming, and I'm hungry."

"We just had dinner two hours ago," Face reminded her.

"I happen to have a fast metabolism," Jean remarked, "That tends to happen when you run around with a merry band of Special Force knuckleheads all day. Besides, Murdock's been saying he was going to try fattening me up…boy talk about calling the vase Ming."

"Unbelievable," Face grunted as he turned and walked away.

Jean poured some salt into the water to make it boil faster and as she stared down at the bottom of the pan, she remarked to herself, "What I wouldn't give for a box of grits right now," and shook her head.

Even in the kitchen Jean could hear something that sounded like it was coming from out in the hall, she joined Face in the living room and they both went to the front door and opened it a crack. They saw a policeman at the doorway across the hall speaking to Murdock and Hannibal, who was back in his old lady disguise and putting on a good act of trying in vain to keep the top of his bathrobe pressed shut.

"I don't understand, officer," he said in his best grandmother voice, "Has there been a crime committed in the building?"

"No ma'am," the young officer assured her, "But this neighborhood _is_ experiencing a crime wave at the moment and we're making a point to check around and make sure everybody's alright."

"Well that's a relief," Hannibal said, and putting an arm around Murdock he added, "It's a shame when you can't even be safe in your own home anymore."

"What've you got to worry about, Annabel?" Murdock asked, "Any burglar trying to bust in would take one look at you getting undressed and go blind."

Hannibal dramatically took offense to that and smacked Murdock upside his head, "You take that back, I've _still_ got the fine athletic body I had 40 years ago, the body of an Olympic swimmer."

"Well give it back, it's getting stretched out of shape," Murdock told her.

The officer butted in and told Murdock, "That's no way to talk to your wife, sir, I think you should apologize to her."

"Alright," Murdock turned to Hannibal and said, "I'm sorry."

Hannibal smiled and said, "I forgive you dear, now how about a kiss?"

"_No thank you_," Murdock took a step back and said, "I'll pass." To the officer he said, as he reached for the door, "Thank you for stopping by, officer, goodnight."

As he closed their door, Face did the same on the other side of the hall. Once the officer had left, Hannibal said quietly to Murdock, "Well, that's it. A few of the other victims said shortly before the break-ins, a policeman came by to check on the neighborhood." And with that he ripped his bathrobe open and started removing his disguise piece by piece.

"Now it's just a question of _whose_ apartment is going to be hit," Murdock replied.

* * *

"Something's wrong with this stove," Jean said as she picked up a can of salt and poured some more into the pan, "Water's not boiling yet."

Face watched her pour in a steady stream of salt and asked her, "_What_ are you cooking?"

"Haven't decided yet," she answered.

Face shook his head in a typical 'I don't even want to know' gesture and walked away. Jean cocked her head to the side and added, "Say one thing, this pan's big enough to make spaghetti for the whole lot of us…should be enough water too."

"Mm-hmm," Face dismissively replied as he headed back into the living room, lightly scratching the side of his face as he went.

He stopped in his tracks when he heard a low sound from outside in the hallway. He stood perfectly still and held his breath, and though the sound was muffled through the walls, he could hear the sound of several footsteps coming their way, and then suddenly stopping.

The door was knocked open and Face threw himself under the table in the living room and pressed the button on Murdock's Walkman that was hooked up, thanks to a little electronic ingenuity on B.A.'s part, to the walkie-talkie that sent the music blaring into the other two apartments, the English lyrics coming through loud and clear as the desired signal:

"_Call the troops out in a hurry!_

_This is what we waited for,_

_This is it boys,_

_This is war!"_

"Showtime," Hannibal said as he and Murdock grabbed their guns and sped across the hall.

They busted in behind the intruders and let off a few warning rounds into the walls behind them to get the point across and quick. By this time, B.A. had also come up from the floor below, also with a gun in hand and aimed at the three men dressed as Green Berets.

"Well," Hannibal said amusedly, "Everybody's got a partner, so let's start dancing."

The men in uniform move too quick to really be seen, one lunged towards the floor, another moved against the side wall and the third killed the lights so everybody was left stumbling in the dark, hoping they were beating the daylights out of the _right_ people. Face made his way over to the light switch and turned it on and took a look; B.A. tossed one of them over his head, Murdock was pitted against another one and neither seemed to be gaining any ground, and the third had Hannibal knocked against the wall and his neck in a death grip.

Jean came out of the kitchen carrying the large pan of near boiling water and swinging it back like a baseball bat, swung it forward and tossed the hot water on the man strangling Hannibal. He let go of the Colonel and screamed as his back was burnt through his clothes, Jean came up to him and proceeded to use the pan like a club, beating the man in the face and head, and he screamed as the hot metal made contact with his skin and burnt him.

"How do you like that, huh?" she asked the man, not waiting for an answer, while he was momentarily blinded by the burns near his eyes, she came up to him and started kicking him where it hurt, with each kick he stumbled backward and she stepped right after him and kicked him again, "How you like that? Huh? Huh? Huh? You like that?"

Jean was aware of a pair of strong arms locking themselves around her and pulling her back and she realized it was Hannibal.

"At ease, corporal," he told her, "He's out of the dance."

The one B.A. had sent flying over the couch had gotten to his feet and come back for more, only to be knocked down again, and this time down and out, leaving only the one Murdock was tangling with. Murdock had fallen and braced himself just before his knees hit the floor, the Green Beret came charging at him and Murdock rose up at just the right time to use the momentum and their positions to his advantage, he grabbed the man, lifted him bodily up, and then body slammed him to the floor, and then jumped on the man like he was doing a jump off the high dive at the pool. Face came up to them and watched as Murdock slammed himself against the man beneath him like a wrestler in the ring, so Face knelt down beside them and wagging his finger with each count said, "One, two, three, four, five, nine, ten, you're out!"

Murdock looked up and asked him, "Hey what about six, seven and eight?"

"My mistake," Face said with a smirk, "Murdock, proceed and give him six, seven and eight."

And with that, Murdock rose up on his knees and punched the man three times.

Hannibal came over to them and broke up the fun, pulling Murdock up off the man, who was beaten bloody, but was still conscious. Hannibal grabbed him by the front of his jacket and yanked his upper body up into a semi-sitting position, and said simply, "Now, let's talk."

* * *

It turned out that the men were _not_ Green Berets, though they had served in the U.S. Army, prematurely and dishonorably discharged. Apparently they got sent back on a banana boat, they'd all been cited as having severe mental and psyche issues, which Murdock had only responded with, "No big surprise there."

"How many foul-balls can this Army get?" Jean quietly asked him. Face leaned over to her and said only in response, "Shh."

"A little after our time," Hannibal told the others, and introduced their prisoners for the time being, "This is Thom Pearl, Danny Cole, and that's Fred Pearson, served in the Army from 1973 to 1974, 1975-1976, and sent out and shipped back in 1977."

"Pearson? I thought you blew your face off with a dirty M-16," Jean said.

"Shh," Face told her.

"Foul ball Fred strikes again," Jean murmured quietly.

"Now," Hannibal addressed the three men who had been stripped of their disguises and were tied up on the couch in their fatigue pants and undershirts only, "It's obvious that between the three of you, there's not a whole brain that could be capable of this plan, so we want to know who you're working for, how many more of you there are, and what your boss's aim is, and you might as well throw in for a bonus who all he has up his sleeve, like the landlord who leased us this apartment."

The three men looked at each other as if they were trying to decide what to do. Finally Pearson spoke up and said, "We were just told to scare the people out, said nobody would call the cops on Green Berets because who would believe it?"

"Told you," Jean told Face.

"And one of you went around as that cop to make sure the targets were alone and didn't have anybody with them," Hannibal said, "Who's he?"

"Name's Gerry Farnsworth," Pearson answered, "There're probably a dozen others, everybody got issued a different section of the neighborhood to take on."

"That just leaves the who and the why," Face pointed out.

"We were approached by a guy named Robert Ging," Thom Pearl offered.

"Ging?" Jean repeated, "That's a name?"

"Shh," Face warned her.

"What's Mr. Ging want with the property?" Hannibal asked.

Pearl just shrugged his shoulders as best as he could and said, "We didn't ask."

"Didn't see any point to naturally," Face said, "So long as you got yours."

"How did this Ging sucker know where to find you?" B.A. asked.

"He said that he was friends with our General from the Army," Cole answered.

Jean and Murdock looked to each other at the mention of that word, and it wasn't lost on Hannibal either.

"A _general_, eh?" Hannibal asked, and let out a small, humorless laugh, "And _what_ pray tell would this General's name happen to be?"


	20. Chapter 20

"The guy's name," Cole told them, "Is General Hunt Stockwell."

Face scratched the top of his head and asked, "Why does that name sound familiar?"

Even Hannibal seemed to be searching his memory bank. The best he could come up with was, "I seem to recall hearing _of_ him during 'Nam, never knew him though."

"Alright so what you heard _of_ him," Jean said, "What kind of a guy is he supposed to be?"

"Not sure," Hannibal answered.

Jean glared at him and remarked, "Boy _some_ help _you_ are."

"If Hannibal didn't know him," Face explained, "And we didn't know him, then he couldn't have been very important, between all of us we knew pretty much everybody over there who was _worth_ knowing."

"Well if _these_ are the nuts he recruits for his dirty work," Jean pointed out, "I can see that."

"Now _don't_ go insulting the nuts," Murdock told her, "Poor little things get no respect, cashews, pistachios, almonds, pecans, walnu…"

"Be quiet, crazy fool," B.A. said as he tapped Murdock in the back of his head since smacking him would likely cause his skull to collapse.

"Alright, so what's this General want with these three Froot Loops?" Jean asked.

"Well I don't know about you," Face said to the others, "But they seem pretty sane to me."

"Yeah well you know how easy it is for them to declare somebody crazy," Jean pointed to Murdock and added, "Case in point."

"The better question," Hannibal said, "Is why is he willing to help this guy Ging to scare everybody off the block? What's he want the property for?"

"Well the only way we're going to find that out," Jean said, "Is to walk right up to the hatchet-head and ask him point blank, and good luck with that one."

"A little luck," Hannibal corrected her, "And a plan."

"And naturally you have both," Murdock said.

"He's got the plan, he needs to get the luck," Jean told him.

"Right but in the meantime," Face said, "_What_ exactly are we going to do with our guests?"

Hannibal looked their three captives over for a minute, and started to laugh as the answer came to him. He turned to Face and said, "Call VC and the others, I think they'll be _very_ interested in having a few house guests for the weekend."

The three men looked to one another, silently questioning what their fate was going to be.

B.A. just snorted and remarked, "This oughta be _good_."

* * *

"Oh _sure_, Hannibal," Virginia told the Colonel the next morning when they met at the restaurant. They'd herded their captives into the kitchen and left them there tied up so the Trangs could see what they were dealing with without it interrupting business out front. V.C. looked the men up and down and said, "We can keep an eye on them till you get back, we'll have a _fun_ time with them." She laughed and looked to her brothers and asked, "Ain't that right, Jimmy?"

"Oh sure," he said as he came over to the others, "I can line them up against the wall and practice my knife throwing act," and mimicked tossing one.

"Try cleavers, they're much more challenging," Face suggested with a coy smirk.

"Hey I know," Virginia said, and turning to Lee she said, "Break out the hot tar and the chicken feathers."

"Making another piñata, sis?" he replied with a chuckle.

"You don't know your history," she replied, "You know how many people went _mad_ from having that _burning hot_ tar spread all over their bodies?"

"Hm," Murdock observed, "Had to be more effective than Chinese water torture."

"I know," Stephen said as he joined in on the fun, "Let's take them back to the house and show them the lab we got in the back…" he laughed and added, "I always wanted to see what a taxidermied human would look like."

Jean watched them standing around the men laughing at their ideas and it caused her to flash back on the script Murdock had shown her that she didn't remember writing. Something about Viet-Cong doctors hauling in captured GIs and experimenting on them. She shook the memory from her mind, they had more important things to worry about now, _real_ things. At least she tried, but then she started to wonder…large portions of that script talked about a General…and this Stockwell was a General too…what if it was connected? Nah…or? Murdock had a sixth sense that ran on warp overdrive, he was in tune with things that were too much coincidence to just _be_ coincidence…was it possible that she was starting to develop the same…whatever it was? But then…

Hannibal felt something tugging on the back of his safari jacket and he turned to see it was Jean, tugging on the bottom of the fabric like a little kid trying to get his attention.

"Something you want?" he asked innocently.

"Hannibal, what's a double veteran?" she asked.

"Ah…" Hannibal's face went blank as her question hit him full force. He noticed that her question hadn't been asked loudly enough for the others to hear, for which he was thankful.

"Murdock already gave me the brush off on the question once, well I want to know," Jean said.

Hannibal resisted the urge to shake his head and tell her 'no you don't', he knew they'd never get anywhere like that.

"It's a term that hasn't seen the light of day since Vietnam," he told her, "And with good reason."

"Yeah well…this guy Stockwell _was_ in Vietnam, right? What're the chances that he's one of them?"

Hannibal opened his mouth, then closed it, and shook his head and told her, "I don't know, Jean."

"But what's it mean?" she asked.

Hannibal knew there was no avoiding it. "You should've listened to Murdock the first time," he told her, and lowly so the others wouldn't overhear it he explained, "It's what they call a soldier who's killed a woman after…doing other things to her."

"You mean torture."

"Close enough," he answered, "And believe me you don't need to know anymore than that."

"Hey Hannibal!" Virginia came up wielding a small butcher knife and asked him, "How much meat you reckon we could get off of these guys? Think they'd go nice in a soup?"

Hannibal tried to fight back a chuckle but lost that battle, "Virginia, exactly _how_ does a sweet little girl," he said those words with an exaggerated look of sugar sickness on his face, "From Montana come up with the kinds of things you say?"

"Hey we didn't have TV in Montana, we had to make our own fun," she explained, "Didn't you hear? Growing up with_out_ television's supposed to make you _more_ creative."

"Hmm," Hannibal turned to Jean and said, "You think by the time you have kids they'll still have "Dukes of Hazzard" on TV?"

"Hannibal," she replied, "By the time we have kids, "Transformers" will be a reality."

Virginia poked Hannibal and asked him, "Incidentally _how_ long are we supposed to keep Larry, Moe and Curly on ice here?"

"Until we get back," Face answered.

"Back from where?" Lee asked.

"They're going to go in to wherever these bums are supposed to report in, _as_ them," Jean explained, "Hannibal figures that way it'll give them prime access to this General Stockwell, whoever the hell that is, at which point they'll be able to blow whatever his operation is wide open and expose him for whatever he is."

"Think that's smart?" Jimmy asked.

"If it was smart, Hannibal would've thought up something else entirely," Jean told him.

Hannibal turned to her and remarked dryly, "Ha-ha…ha."

Virginia went over to Jean and asked her, "And where do _you_ fit into all of this?"

"Get this," she answered, "I'm gonna be a plant."

"A Venus fly lily?" Jackie asked.

Virginia whopped him on the back of the head and told him, "Shut up, Number One Son."

"I suspect Hannibal's _still_ figuring all the details out as he goes along," Jean said.

"Well it wouldn't be the first time," Face pointed out.

The kitchen door swung open and Jason came in carrying some papers and laughing his head off at whatever he was reading.

"What's so funny?" Virginia asked.

"Oh…" he choked back a guffaw, "Nothing."

Virginia signaled for him to hand the papers to her, "Hand 'em here."

"Okay," Jason choked on another laugh as he gave them to her.

Virginia looked them over and just about started to laugh herself, "Oh boy…holy Toledo."

"What is it?" Face asked.

She went over to them and showed them what was on the papers, "Look at this."

Everybody had a look, and then a good laugh. The papers were posters, _wanted_ posters for the A-Team, only instead of their own pictures, whoever made the posters inserted pictures of Decker as Hannibal, Crane as B.A., and Lynch as Face.

"I don't know who made them," Murdock said, "But I'd like to shake their hand."

"Hey," Jean pointed to the picture of Decker, "_That's_ the picture Amy took of him when they busted into this place."

"Amy's too smart to come up with this," Hannibal said.

"Or not smart enough," Jean replied.

"Well whoever did is an evil genius," Murdock said, "When the MPs show up people are going to be calling the Army on themselves, be chasing their tails for hours."

Hannibal stopped laughing and slowly turned and glanced over at V.C. and her brothers. None of them had a face that gave them away but he knew that somehow, somebody in that bunch was responsible, and he was grateful for their contribution to their constant eluding Decker and the MPs.

"Hannibal, you think Decker knows this Stockwell guy?" Jean asked.

"I'm sure next time he comes after us we'll have a chance to ask him," he answered.

The kitchen door swung open again and Amy came in this time and said, "Hey it looks like there's another fight breaking out in the front."

"Oh here we go again," Face groaned as they headed for the doors to see what was going on.

They never had a chance to find out what started the fight because as soon as they stepped into the main dining area, everybody had to hit the floor to avoid being hit by flying bottles and other improvised missiles. Face ducked down and covered his head and tried to figure out what was going on. He looked to the corner of the room and had an 'ah ha' moment when he saw the banjo Murdock had brought in, standing in an empty corner. He moved over to the corner of the room as low to the floor as he could and grabbed the banjo and popped up swinging it like a tennis racket and managed to hit some of the bottles being flung at him and knock them back to the people who were throwing them.

Hannibal managed to make his way closer to the front entrance before the windows burst as tear gas grenades were launched in.

"Oh great," he said, "It's Decker and the rest of the joy boys, we're gonna have to go out the back way!"

"Right behind ya, Hannibal," Face said as he swatted one of the landing grenades that seemed to be having a delayed release, and bounced it right back out the window and back at the MPs dispensing them.

"Wish he'd come up with something _different_ once in a while," Jean said as they ran for the kitchen.

"Sorry folks, we gotta run," Hannibal told Lin and Amy and the Trangs, "See you later!"

"Good luck, Hannibal!" Amy called after them, and added under her breath, "You'll need it."

* * *

"Okay, I think we finally managed to lose Decker," Face said as he eased back into his seat in the back of the van and tried to catch his breath.

"Good."

"Hannibal, are you sure about this?" Murdock asked, "Are you sure we'll be able to pull this off?"

Hannibal held up a small notebook pad and said, "I got all the information those three stooges had to offer, who all they know in this racket, where they're supposed to go to report, when they're supposed to be there…"

"How do you know they were telling the truth?" B.A. asked.

"Because they're not smart enough to give us so many wrong answers on the spot," Hannibal answered, "They never anticipated being caught, they assumed _everybody_ would be scared off by the Green Berets busting down their doors."

"Except _other_ Green Berets," Jean commented, "Whoever's pulling the strings here, had to have known the full backgrounds on the people in the neighborhood, they didn't go after anyone with a military history of their own."

"Eh, it all has the ring of a well thought out plan," Face noted.

"Almost," Hannibal reminded him, "Question still remains, _what_ does this guy Ging want the property for?"

"Reckon we'll find that out tonight, Colonel," Murdock said.

"One way or another," B.A. added.

Jean looked behind their seats and noticed several dress bags on hangers and asked, "Hey Hannibal, how many of you guys are going in tonight in uniform?"

"Just Face, Murdock and myself," he answered, "You and B.A. are going to stick close by incase we need reinforcements."

Jean picked up one of the hangers and asked, "And what am _I_ supposed to be?" noticing that there were four uniforms bagged up.

"Incase we need a stand-in," Hannibal said, "You know about those, don't you?"

"Don't be condescending, Hannibal, anybody who works in movies knows about stand-ins," she replied.

"Alright," Hannibal nodded, "So you stay on call tonight incase you're needed to keep up the illusion of three Green Berets while the real third man sneaks off somewhere."

Jean unzipped the bag and took a look at the uniform, it could've fit any one of the people in the backseat of the van, more or less. She looked to Murdock and told him, "Been a long time since I played the part of a Green Beret."

"Ain't much to remember," Murdock told her.

"I should say not," she remarked, "Last time all I did was help carry a coffin."

"And you might _again_," Hannibal said as he glanced out the passenger window and out at the side mirror and saw the winding road disappearing behind them, "Depending on what the people we meet tonight have to say."

* * *

"Hannibal, I've got a bad feeling about this," Face said that night as they walked along through the dark to meet with their mystery men.

"I got a _weird_ feeling," Murdock added.

"About the meeting?" Face asked.

"No," Murdock said, "I'm not used to a Green Beret uniform; I'd prefer having my own Air Force uniform."

Hannibal rolled his eyes, "Murdock, you know why you couldn't wear your Air Force outfit."

"I know, it still feels weird though," he said.

"Just don't get nervous, Murdock," Face told him.

"I'm not nervous, Faceman, I _itch_ when I get nervous," Murdock said as he started scratching the side of his face.

"Murdock, stop teasing him," Hannibal replied.

"Hannibal, they're gonna _know_ we're not those clowns," Face said.

"It's dark, we're not going to get close, besides it only has to work for a minute," Hannibal reminded him.

"Famous last words," Face and Murdock said simultaneously.

Hannibal ignored them and took the radio out of his pocket and said into it, "Are you there, B.A.?"

"Yeah I'm here," they heard his voice come over in response, "What's up?"

"Nothing so far," Hannibal answered, "But keep your ears open, we're going to be meeting with the others in just a few minutes."

"You got it," B.A. replied.

"Who would be meeting _anybody_ on a pier in the middle of the night?" Face asked.

"Somebody about to get a free swimming lesson with concrete flippers," Murdock commented.

"Shh," Hannibal warned them.

Face couldn't shake the stone feeling in his stomach, he just _knew_ that this wasn't going to work; _something_ was going to go wrong, something _always_ did _before_ Hannibal's plan worked right, it was inevitable. His heart was up in his throat and he couldn't swallow, he was doing good just to keep breathing as they headed out to the dock. As they drew closer to the place, they could see that somebody was already there waiting for them, or rather for the people they were _supposed_ to be.

"Think that's Ging?" Face asked quietly.

Hannibal shook his head, "We got a couple more channels to go through before we get directly to him _or_ Stockwell…Pearson said the guy they were going to meet tonight is named Mike Dahlberg."

"Boy people sure got weird names, don't they?" Murdock asked.

"Shh," Face told him.

Even in the dark they were able to get a decent look at the man they were meeting. By Face's estimate, he looked to be about 50, big guy, definitely looked like he could bench press somebody if they got in his way, but also at first glance Face got the impression that left on his own, the man would probably be about as smart as an ox.

"What've you got to report?" he asked them.

Just as Hannibal opened his mouth to answer, they were hit by blinding lights and off in the distance heard over a bullhorn, "This is the United States Army, freeze where you are!"

"Figures," Face murmured under his breath.

"Decker you idiot!" Hannibal said as they took off running before they could be identified.

"Always has to crash the party, don't he, Colonel?" Murdock asked.

Making their way along in the dark outside of the army's spotlights, they managed to dodge obstacles on the ground and avoid falling flat on their faces during their getaway. They got off the pier but found themselves with few open options for a disappearing spot.

"You think it's the A-Team, Colonel?" Crane asked Decker as they got in their car and proceeded to chase after the fugitives.

"This whole operation just reeks of them," Decker said for an answer, "Degrading the Green Berets to commit a bunch of home invasions, this is a new low even for Smith, _even_ given everything he's done in the past to give the U.S. Military a bad name."

Static came over the car radio and an unidentified voice responded, "That's funny, I thought you _were_ the military's bad name."

Decker and Crane looked to each other, Decker picked up the radio and asked, "Who the hell is this?"

"Ask no questions and I'll tell you no tales," the voice replied before signing off.

Decker hung the radio back in place and commented, "Now they're bringing other people into this."

Crane kept his eyes on everything ahead of him as they tried getting past the other MP cars and asked, "Think it's the Rhodes woman?"

"Didn't sound like her, but that doesn't mean anything," Decker said, then realized, "_How_ did they hear us?"

They didn't have long to think on the matter, there was another break of static, this time followed by an MP's voice, "Colonel, we have them in our sight and they're heading down the back alley as planned."

"Everybody in position?" Decker asked.

"Affirmative, sir," the MP replied.

Decker grinned, "Well, looks like Smith's luck is _just_ about to run out."

Crane managed to get them caught up to the other cars and when he hit the headlights they were able to see the three figures in Green Beret uniforms run down a narrow alley between two abandoned buildings.

"We got them now," Decker said.

Crane stopped the car and they got out and went over to where the others were standing; on the other side of that dark alley had been an open trailer hitched to the back of a truck, and as soon as the A-Team ran in, the door had closed behind them and they were locked in now. And now the trailer was alive with the muffled sounds of a struggle, people beating on the sides of the trailer trying to get out, yelling muffled threats at their captors. Decker slowly walked over to the trailer and rapped on the side of it with his knuckles and said condescendingly, "Nice try, Smith, but for once you got outsmarted…hope you enjoy the ride because the next stop is the federal penitentiary."

Decker took a step back as somebody beat exceptionally hard on the side of the trailer and the metal seemed to move towards the Colonel for a second. Decker turned to the driver and said only, "You follow us, I'm not taking any chances on anymore outside associates coming to their aid."

"Yes sir, Colonel," the man replied.

From a distance, Jean and B.A. watched this scene from the van.

"They caught them, I can't believe it," Jean groaned, "Decker _actually_ caught them, now what?"

B.A. kept his eyes at the scene straight ahead and said only, "Now we wait."

"Wait for what?" Jean asked, "You mean we're not going to follow them?"

"Nope," B.A. answered.

"Why not?!" Jean wanted to know.

* * *

Hannibal Smith wasn't the _only_ person who knew how to set a trap, _nor_ was he the only one who knew to keep an eye out for any upcoming obstacles. Decker and Crane had led the truck hauling their captives to a check point a couple miles away; if they'd managed to make it this far without an outsider stepping in to assist the A-Team, then something was going right for a change.

The MPs who'd been assigned watch duty assured the Colonel that they hadn't seen or heard anything unusual all night since they'd set up base.

"Well that's fine," Decker said with an unnerving smirk on his face, "Looks like the A-Team has _finally_ met their match." He went back around to the trailer and chuckled, saying loud enough for the occupants inside to hear, "Looks like you exhausted all of your options for somebody to help break you out in your time of need, Smith."

Decker was not pleased with the response, because there wasn't any.

"Something's wrong," he told the truck's driver, "It's too quiet in there, open it up and make sure they didn't get away."

"Colonel, how could they possibly…" the driver started to ask, but Decker cut him off.

"_Just_ open the trailer," he said firmly.

Crane came up beside him and asked, "You don't really think they managed to escape, do you, Colonel?"

"No, but I'm not taking any chances," Decker explained, "Smith's going to attempt _some_ kind of escape, needs time to figure a plan, we're not going to give him that time."

The back of the trailer was opened up and everybody could see the three people in uniform standing with their backs to everyone else. Decker strode over to the door and said smugly, "What's the matter, Smith? Don't you want to face your audience?"

The three people turned around and Decker thought he was going to have a heart attack. Instead of Smith, Peck, and Murdock, there were three Vietnamese people in the truck in the Green Beret Uniforms.

"Hello," they all said laughing as they stepped out of the trailer.

It was Virginia, Tommy and Jimmy Trang, Tommy had donned a short gray wig under his beret and had padded his jacket, which he promptly undid and stripped off, and asked Decker, "What do you think? You think the jacket makes me look fat?"

Decker was so stunned that for a moment he couldn't even think, and then he didn't _know_ what to think. Finally a question came to him and he asked them, "Who the hell are you?"

"My name is Who," Tommy said.

"My name is What," Virginia added.

"And my name is Where," Jimmy said.

"We are Who, What and Where," they said simultaneously, and laughed again.

"What the hell is going on around here?" Decker wanted to know.

* * *

Jean shook her head and told Hannibal, "You should _never_ have agreed to let the Trangs go in your place."

"Oh come on, Jean, we knew Decker was going to have a trap waiting for us, and we can't very well get to the root of this matter from the back of a police car, can we?"

"But what's he going to do to them?" Jean asked.

"I doubt much," Hannibal answered, "They seem to have their own plans for Decker."

Jean leaned back in her seat in the back of the van and continued to shake her head.

"So now what do we do, Hannibal?" Face asked, "Dahlberg took off when the MPs hit their lights and I doubt we're going to be able to find him now."

"Oh yes we will," Hannibal told him, "All thanks to that little bug B.A. planted on the underside of his car."

"Ah ha!" Murdock said, pointing boastfully to the Sergeant up front.

"No doubt he's going to go to Ging and report what happened," Hannibal explained, "And when he does, we're going to be there to crash the party."

"This guy Stockwell just better be with them so we can nab them all at the same time," Jean said, "And find out what the hell's going on around here."

"Wouldn't hurt," Face agreed.

"In the meantime," Hannibal checked his watch, "We just have to hope that the Trangs can keep Decker occupied long enough for us to _find_ them."

"Somehow I don't think that'll be too much of a problem for them, Colonel," Murdock noted.

Author's note: I decided since the timeline for this series is set before the 4th and 5th seasons and technically the character of Hunt Stockwell doesn't exist yet, that his character could be slightly reworked to fit in here.


	21. Chapter 21

"This better not take long," Virginia said as they sat down across from Decker's desk in his office at the Federal Building, "We're late for a party."

Decker was unfazed as he nonchalantly told them, "It will take as long as it will take to run your fingerprints and find out _who_ you are."

"That's me," Tommy said as he pointed a thumb towards himself.

Riddles, that's all he'd been getting out of these three nuts since they got loaded up into the back of an MP car and brought here, nothing but damn riddles.

Decker looked at Virginia who was seated straight across from him and asked, "What is your name, Miss?"

"That's right," she said.

"What's right?" he asked.

"Yep," she said, "What is my name."

Decker glared at her, "_That's_ what I'm asking you."

"Well _that's_ what I'm telling you," Virginia told him.

"_What_ is?" Decker asked.

"That's right," she said.

Decker grumbled and rubbed his eyes. He pointed to Tommy and asked Virginia, "What is his name?"

"No, What is _my_ name," Virginia answered defensively.

Decker groaned, this was going to be a long night. He forced himself to maintain a neutral look and he asked them, pretty confident he already had the answer, "You all wouldn't happen to be _related_, would you?"

"Oh sure," they answered.

"Well that just figures," he dryly remarked. He looked to Tommy and said, "Tell me your brother's name."

"Where," he said.

"Over here," Decker pointed at Jimmy.

"Where," Tommy said.

Decker grumbled under his breath, then turned to Jimmy and asked him, "You tell me _his_ name."

"Who," Jimmy said.

"The man sitting two spaces away from you," Decker said, starting to lose his patience.

"Who," Jimmy repeated.

Decker was just about to lose it. He shot up from his chair and to his feet and went around the desk and hovered over Tommy, "State your name."

"Who," Tommy answered.

"_Your_ name," Decker said.

"Who," Tommy parroted, though he seemed to sink lower in his chair every time Decker asked him. And Decker took notice and hovered lower to match with him.

"I want to know _your_ name!" Decker told him.

"Who," Tommy said.

Decker was just about to see red. He stepped over towards Virginia who crossed her legs and placed her hands on her hips and showed no sign of cowering in his presence.

"Alright, we're going to try this again," he said, "State _your_ name."

"What," V.C. said.

"Give me your name!" Decker told her.

"What!" she replied, mocking him.

"Then tell me _his_ name," Decker pointed to Tommy.

"Who," she said.

Decker knew it was going to be a while before they got anything back on the prints, meaning this was going to be an even longer night. He decided to take a different approach.

"Are you working with the A-Team?" he wanted to know.

"Who?" Jimmy asked.

"Huh?" Tommy turned to his brother.

"What's the A-Team?" Jimmy asked.

"No, What is _my_ name," Virginia reminded him.

"You don't _really_ expect I'm too stupid to not know you _know_ who the A-Team is, do you?" Decker asked them.

"Huh?" they all asked, sounding genuinely and equally confused by his question.

"A-Team?" Virginia repeated, "Never heard of them."

"Ain't no such animal," Jimmy added.

"No vegetable or mineral either," Tommy said.

"If you're _not_ working with the A-Team," Decker said, "_Why_ are you wearing those uniforms?"

They looked down at their Green Beret uniforms as if they had _just_ realized they were wearing them. Looking back up at Decker Virginia told him, "I _told_ you we were on our way to a party."

"A costume party," Jimmy explained.

"You _really_ think I'm going to believe that?" Decker asked.

"It's in Hollywood, what do you expect?" Tommy asked.

"And _why_ would you be going there?" he asked.

Tommy stood up and stared Decker down and asked him defensively, "What's the matter, is there a reason we shouldn't? Did somebody declare Beverly Hills a gook-free zone when we weren't looking?"

"Now look—" Decker started to say, but was quickly cut off.

Tommy grabbed him by his jacket and the others stood up and crowded in on him.

"Now _you_ look, Birdman," Tommy said, noting the eagle on Decker's cap, and he flicked the colonel's nose, "My daddy didn't come into this country so that 20 years later we could take flack from the likes of _you_, you don't no more put out signs saying 'Irish need not apply' 'Jews forbidden from using this pool' or 'Blackie go back to Africa', so you sure as _hell_ ain't gonna tell us where we can and can't go in this city. I don't care how big your bird is or how many stripes you got, even the President don't got the power to try pushing us into our place."

Virginia pushed her way beside her brother and into Decker's face and added, "And for your information, we're attending because we work there," she pointed to Tommy and said, "He's one of the best stuntmen there is."

Decker managed to break loose from Tommy's grip and established some room between them and he turned to Jimmy and asked, "And you?"

"I work in sound effects," Jimmy said.

Decker turned to Virginia and added, "And you?"

"I'm a makeup artist," Virginia said with a big smile, "I do everybody's makeup for the nude scenes."

Decker half choked at that answer and turned around to face his desk for a moment as he tried to make heads or tails out of this fine mess.

"So what was this thing you were talking about earlier," Tommy asked, "What's that?"

"The A-Team," Decker turned around to them, "Are three commandos from one of the best units in 'Nam."

Tommy guffawed, "Those bozos come over to our motherland, napalm the daylights out of us, and _you_ think we're going to help somebody like that? Now _why_ would we do something _that_ stupid?" He leaned in towards Decker and asked him, "Ain't you heard the stereotype? Asians are supposed to be smart."

Virginia wandered around towards the walls and asked, "These pictures of _you_ in your prime?" she scoffed and said, "Warn't much then either, were you? Hmmmm…" she studied some of the pictures closer and asked Decker, "How is it you never got promoted above the rank of colonel? You screw up somewhere? Course I suppose if you did _that_, you would've been dishonorably discharged…or was it court martialed? Oh well…"

Jimmy turned to Decker and said, "Wait a minute…I think I heard about you…" a look of recognition came over him and he said, "Ohhhh yeah…you were the one who got knocked back because of all the people _you_ murdered over in Vietnam, _that's_ why you never got promoted."

"And what," Virginia asked, "Finding the A-Team's going to do something to help that? More likely they're the ones who helped him."

"Don't make me laugh," Decker told them, "They're fugitives."

"Ah and of course catching them would do wonders for _your_ political career," Jimmy said.

"Pity," Virginia shook her head, "I'm sure you wouldn't be interested in a _real_ military case that could boost your popularity with the Generals."

Decker looked to her and asked, "What do you mean by that?"

Virginia looked at him coyly and without missing a beat she asked him, "What's a big time war General want with some two bit hood who hires rejects from the army's banana boat psycho ward to go in dressed as Green Berets to assault private residents in their own homes to drive them out so he can take control of the property?"

Now she had Decker's attention. Without even considering the possibility that she could be giving him the runaround he asked her, "What are you talking about?"

"Does the name General Stockwell mean anything to you?" Virginia asked.

* * *

"Hannibal," Face leaned over to the front seat and asked the Colonel, "Is there a reason we've been waiting out here for an hour while Dahlberg's been in _there_ with Ging this whole time?"

After a short while they'd managed to catch up with Dahlberg's car and followed him out to an empty part of town that was largely abandoned warehouses and vacant lots. They'd seen him head in one of the old buildings that looked like it had been shut down for years, and they'd seen another car parked by, and some lights on inside, so they knew he'd been meeting with somebody, and second in command to the General in charge seemed like the best bet at the moment.

Hannibal didn't turn to look at his Lieutenant, just stared straight ahead as he took out a new cigar, bit down on it and lit it, "Need a plan, kid."

"I told you he didn't have a full one," Jean told Murdock.

"That's not it," Hannibal told her, raising only his eyes as if he could look back at her, "Need a different plan."

"How come?" B.A. asked.

"Because," Jean said with a huff as she leaned over to the front seat and stared at the back of Hannibal's head, "This time you're not going after some power hungry cop or a big shot gangster or a self proclaimed prophet _or_ even a SWAT Team member…you're going up against the Army, a General of all people, if he was in Vietnam he no doubt knows _how_ Hannibal works…he'll know your front door approach."

"Could be," Hannibal replied dismissively as he blew smoke, "Whether Stockwell's in with them or not, these guys aren't going to jump just because we bust in and let off a few rounds and make our point."

"You know what your problem is, Hannibal," Jean said as she leaned over towards him, "You're too good, and everybody knows it, everybody who's ever dealt with you knows _how_ you work."

"Oh yeah?" he asked, "How do you figure that, kid?"

"Very easily," Jean answered, "Everybody knows that you cannot be bought, you won't even act like you can be to gain access, you stand your ground and make your point that you're untouchable where bribes are concerned. They also know that you'll go out of your way to avoid killing somebody and would only do it as a last resort, something that really _hasn't_ happened since you got out of the jungle back in 'Nam."

"Could be," Hannibal repeated without any emotion as he seemed to consider that fact.

"You want to take these guys by surprise, you're going to have to come up with something new to use on them," Jean said.

"True," Hannibal said as he took his lighter out and played with the lever, starting a flame and then letting it die out and then starting it again.

Everybody watched him, waiting to see what his next move was, but there didn't seem to be any.

"Well?" Face finally asked, unable to take the suspense any longer.

Hannibal killed the flame once again and said to B.A., "Get us out of here, find a place we can park for the night and get some sleep, I'm going to need some time to think on this."

"But Hannibal," Face started to say.

"We've got Dahlberg's car bugged, he's not smart enough to figure out he's been followed," Hannibal pointed out, "If he tries leaving in the night we'll still be able to track him. Besides, as late as it is now, if we're going to go after these guys and hit them hard, we're going to need to be fresh for it." He turned towards the Sergeant and said, "B.A."

B.A. did as he was told, though even he was having a bad feeling about this. Usually it didn't take Hannibal any time to come up with a plan, and it didn't usually take this long to come up with a _good_ one either. But aside from Lynch, Decker and the MPs they didn't make a habit of going up against the Army either, and they were starting to wonder if maybe this time they'd bitten off enough to choke on.

"Are you sure about this, Hannibal?" Face asked when they finally found a place to stop for the night.

"Yes," he replied, sounding like an annoyed father whose child kept trying to sneak out of bed, "Now go to sleep."

Hannibal waited until the other four occupants of the van were asleep, and then he got out to walk around and think. Jean was right, they were going to have to do something different this time for a plan to work. He'd scout around the area so he knew the territory, that would help some so they could get in and out with as little trouble as possible. But that still left the issue of just exactly _how_ they _were_ going to get in and take over. He turned to the side in his seat and looked at the three people asleep behind him; he looked at Jean and thought about what she'd said earlier, and he got an idea!

* * *

"I don't know who's crazier," Decker grumbled to himself, "Those three for coming up with that story about a general, or _me_ for listening to it."

Half an hour ago Crane had come in with the report that no matches were made with the fingerprints they'd taken from the three siblings they'd brought in earlier that night. It killed Decker to have to let them go but at least he didn't have to see them anymore; never in his whole life, not even with his constant run-ins with the A-Team before they made a prompt getaway, was he ever so tempted to just go over the edge and completely lose his mind.

Those three were nothing if not infuriating, almost, Decker thought, as bad as Smith's typical calm and collective demeanor. After the conversation he just went through with those goons though, Decker couldn't be sure either way whether they were working with the A-Team or not, and if they were not, then maybe there was some credibility to what they'd told him, but if they _were_…

His thoughts were interrupted by a knocking on his door, Crane entered and said, "Colonel…"

"What is it, Crane?" he asked.

"A couple of MPs reported they found an old man sneaking around outside, thought it might be one of Smith's disguises so they're bringing him in," Crane answered.

Decker nodded slowly, not really paying too much attention, "Fine, have them bring him in here."

"Yes sir," Crane said as he closed the door behind him.

Now _what_ would Smith be doing around here? Decker wondered as he scratched a patch of hair on the back of his head. The A-Team had gotten away, and if…ah ha…so they _were_ working with the A-Team after all. Well, Decker thought with a grin, maybe this night wasn't going to be a total washout after all.

Down the hall he could hear the man protesting as he was being brought in, Decker opened his door and watched as two MPs escorted the old man inside.

"Get your hands off me," he said, "I don't understand what's going on, _where_ are we going? Don't touch me," he smacked one of the MP's hands away and told him, "I don't know where your hands have been!"

Decker felt his hand smack the top of his hat, the old man looked like he was somewhere between 70 and 115, he had short white hair, tiny spectacles, and a very thin body, too thin to be Smith unless he went on a crash diet since the last time they'd met, which Decker thought was extreme _even_ for Smith, this _had_ to be the real thing.

"You idiots," he said to the MPs, "This isn't Smith."

"Again with this Smith!" the old man said, "All night long all I've heard is Mr. Smith, Mr. Smith…tomorrow I'm changing my name so even _I_ don't know what it is. Ooh!"

Decker was able to see now that the man's face and clothes were dirty like he'd been tackled to the ground, and he seemed to have some bruises right under his hairline.

"What happened to him?" Decker demanded to know.

"Vandals! Hooligans!" the old man said as he dragged one foot behind him and made his way to the closest chair and collapsed, "There was a whole army of them, ooh it was ugly, _no_ place for women or children…or me for that matter, oooohh!"

"Crane," Decker said, "Get a doctor up here to examine this man."

"Right away, Colonel," the captain said as he and the MPs quickly exited the office.

Hector turned in his seat so Decker wouldn't see him laughing. He reached his hands out to a wine decanter on the desk that was filled with water and tried pouring himself a drink, but for dramatic effect he made his hands shake and spilled some of the water over Decker's papers. Decker insisted on assisting the old man and poured a glass for him.

"Oh thank ye, sonny," he said tiredly, "I really appreciate it."

"On behalf of my men I'd like to apologize for the treatment you received tonight, sir," Decker said.

"That's treatment?" he asked, "What's the disease?"

"Sir, can you tell me your name?" Decker asked, wondering if there was any family for this guy they needed to notify to pick him up.

"My name is Hector," he said with an unusual smile, accompanied by one eye that was starting to roll in his head, "Hector Munroe."

"That's fine," Decker said.

Hector glanced down at the paper Decker was writing on and added straight faced, "My friends call me Saki."

Decker stopped writing and looked up at Hector, who just laughed in return. Decker sighed and decided to try another approach, "Sir, do you have a wallet on you?"

"I knew it!" Hector said as he got up from his seat, "A holdup man!" He threw himself on the floor under Decker's desk and added, "Don't shoot, I'll come peacefully."

"Sir," Decker looked down at the figure lying flat on the floor, "Will you stand up?"

Hector stopped shaking and slowly got to his feet and asked, "What kind of third degree is this?"

"I don't _give_ third degrees," Decker told him.

"Oh, stingy," Hector replied.

Oh brother, Decker thought, instead of family maybe they ought to call all the local loony bins and retirement homes to see if they were missing anybody.

Hector sat back down and laid his forearms on the desk and rested his head on his arms, and put on a good show of being 'out of it'.

The door opened again and Crane said, "Colonel, the doctor's on his way."

"Fine," Decker went over to him, "Also see if you can get a hold of any of the local mental hospitals or rest homes and see if they've had any old men come up AWOL recently."

"_Fathead."_

"What did you say?" Decker asked.

Crane shook his head, "I didn't say anything, Colonel."

Decker turned back to the old man who had fallen asleep leaning on the desk. At this rate, Decker thought, maybe _he_ ought to see that doctor as well.

"_Nimrod."_

Decker spun on his heel and looked back to the old man again, he hadn't moved a single muscle; Decker went around the desk to see him better, the old man was dead to the world. He didn't get it.

* * *

The next morning, Hannibal got everybody up and ran his new plan by them that had come to him in the middle of the night. He had guessed at the time what their reactions would be when he told them, and now that it had happened, he was amused to find he hadn't been far off.

"Hannibal, this is the worst plan you've come up with yet!" Face said.

"Man finally done lost his mind," B.A. said.

Jean just shook her head in mild disbelief and said, "Wow."

A rarity, Murdock was furious.

"Hannibal, you can't do it," he told the Colonel, "You can't do it like that…if you've got to do it, then use me, but don't put Jean in the middle of this."

"I'm sorry, Murdock, but my hands are tied," Hannibal said as he shrugged helplessly.

"Speak for yourself," Jean replied.

"It's going to have to be this way in order for us to pull it off," Hannibal told everyone, "Now last night I did some checking, and taking the back alley behind the building that we saw Dahlberg head to last night, is a narrow path leading out to the middle of nowhere, we're talking about possibly five square miles of vacant land with no neighbors or sign of civilization around."

"Right, so what's out there?" Face asked.

"I'm coming to that," Hannibal explained, "Now, _out_ in that middle of nowhere, there's one very well kept up split-level house, all around the place is nothing but a dirt road that has a _lot_ of recent tire tracks coming in and going out of there, and behind that house after a few hundred yards, you come to an old pump, from there you can't be seen from the house."

"Unless they've got cameras scanning the place," B.A. pointed out.

"Which is why," Hannibal remarked, "Our first move is going to be to take out the power…a house in the middle of nowhere, it shouldn't be hard spotting those wires, _or_ that backup generator."

Murdock and Jean looked at each other as they considered what they'd just been told, and Jean shrugged her shoulders and said to Murdock, "Guess it's too late to take a vote on the matter…" she turned back to Hannibal and told him, "Alright, if we're going to do this, then let's get on with it. I don't mind dying but I hate the waiting process."

Hannibal smiled at her and said, "That's the spirit."

* * *

Once they were able to take down the powerlines, Hannibal figured getting onto the property would be a breeze, _especially_ if they happened to be driving a customized armored bus. That was _definitely_ one for the books in the way of 'things the bad guys never saw coming'.

"Alright," he said as they came to a stop, "Everybody remember your part."

"Easy for you to say," Jean said as she held up her rope-bound wrists, "All I have to do is go out there and croak."

"Alright everybody, get in place," Hannibal said as he went over to her and grabbed her by the arms.

The back exit of the bus was thrown open and Face, Murdock and B.A. got off first, guns in hand and ready to go at a moment's notice. Hannibal was the next one off and he noticed the first few people who had come outside to find out what the hell was going on, and he called to them and said, "Tell your boss to get out here _right_ now…_otherwise_…" He reached up and pulled Jean off of the bus and revealed her wearing an oversized Green Beret uniform with her hands tied together, "He's going to have a nice young lady's blood on his hands."

"You've finally gone and lost your damn mind," Jean told him.

"Be quiet."

Hannibal looked and saw the same men return, but this time there was someone else with them.

"So you're Ging," Hannibal addressed the 40-something year old man who had brownish red hair and a small mustache to match, in some way the man reminded Hannibal of Lynch…in a previous life maybe.

"And you must be Hannibal Smith," he replied.

"Ah, how'd you guess?" Hannibal asked with some amusement.

"I have my ways."

"You mean your old buddy Hunt Stockwell?" Face asked.

Ah ha…Ging hadn't been expecting that, and it showed on his face.

"Incidentally is the good General _here_?" Hannibal inquired.

"What's it to you?" Ging asked.

"It's a lot to me," Hannibal replied short-temperedly, "As well as this woman here," and shoved Jean forth so he could see her better. "Claims that she doesn't work for anybody here but given your recent line of employees, why else would she be dressed like _this_?"

Jean managed to keep her balance and turned around and told Hannibal, "You're out of your damn mind, old man."

Hannibal shook his head slowly and ominously towards her, "You're going to wish you hadn't said that," and he came at her in two steps and backhanded her across the face loud enough for people in China to hear.

Jean reeled back but maintained her balance and remarked, "Eh you can do better than that, my _old man_ used to hit me harder than _that_."

That also was clearly the wrong thing to say, Hannibal came up to her and punched her hard enough to knock her flat on the ground.

"Any _other_ words?" he asked.

Jean coughed and choked as she tried to get up, but at best all she could do was turn from one side to the other. She lay back against the dirt ground and said only, "You ain't gonna do it…everybody knows you'd _never_ shoot somebody."

Hannibal pulled a gun out of his jacket pocket and aimed it at her. "You want a bet?"

"Hannibal, what the hell are you doing?" Face asked, looking like he was about to have kittens.

Murdock was wide eyed and about jumped on the Colonel, "Have you lost your mind?"

Hannibal just chuckled grimly and asked, "Hasn't everybody?" He cocked back the hammer and aimed at Jean's chest, "Say goodnight, kid."

Jean lay flat against the ground and held her chin high to give him better access to her chest and said, "If you're _really_ gonna do it, then _do_ it you psycho," through gritted teeth she added, "Go ahead and shoot!"

Hannibal looked down at her, his gun aimed at her chest, and he didn't move a muscle for several seconds as he seemed to consider it. Finally he said lowly, "Gladly," and pulled the trigger.

'The shot heard round the world' seemed like a fitting expression here, there wasn't _anybody_ on the land who didn't hear the shot. Murdock screamed like a banshee and tried to lunge at Hannibal, but Face grabbed hold of him and restrained him. Jean's chest had exploded in a pool of blood and her head remained tilted to one side in her last movement alive; now it slumped to the side and her eyes were stuck half closed, her bound hands still clutched against her abdomen. Murdock collapsed against the Lieutenant, one hand clutched against his mouth to stifle his hysterical sobs. Hannibal turned to the direction the sound was coming from and he walked over to them with his gun raised like a blackjack and he came up to the two men and said, getting ready to swing it, "Shut up, Captain!"

Face and Murdock both took a step back from him, their eyes wide in shock and disbelief.

"Now _get_ her out of my sight," Hannibal told them.

"W-wh-where're we supposed to put her?" Face managed to ask.

Hannibal pointed to the grounds beyond the house, "Take her out back and bury her," he repositioned the gun in his hand so it pointed to the stunned men standing by the porch and added, "And if any of you tries to follow them, you'll get it too."

Of them all, Ging looked the most like he was about to drop dead of a heart attack. "What the hell did you do?!" he demanded to know.

Hannibal shrugged as though he didn't understand what the big deal was and said, "Same thing I've been doing since Vietnam, just exterminating the pests."

Murdock and Face knelt down by Jean, Face took out a pocket knife and used it to slice through the ropes that kept her hands tied together; when they'd been cut through, he and Murdock each grabbed one arm and slowly started to drag Jean off along the ground, a practice that they'd both had only too much practice of back in the jungle, and thought they'd be able to leave behind them. They heard Hannibal barking orders at Ging and his men, but none of the words really registered.

Once they'd cleared a hundred yards behind the house, Jean opened her eyes and started to pick her head up and looked at the scenery they were leaving in the distance. Then she looked down and noticed that a trail of blood was being made in the dirt as she was dragged along, she tilted her head back to look at Face and told him, "Hey Cinderella! You're leaving a nice little trail for the birds to follow! Just put me down here, let go of me."

Face groaned as he and Murdock stopped for a moment to rest and catch their breath.

"Maybe I'm wrong," Face said, "But I thought Hannibal had that planned for a little later on."

Jean sat up and touched the blood covering the front of her shirt and explained, "The squibs were already starting to pop, he had to do it quick or they'd notice."

"Well it sure as hell worked," Face said, the agitation clear in his voice, "For a minute I thought…"

"What, that he'd really shot me?" Jean asked amusedly.

"Jean, are you sure you're alright?" Murdock asked.

"Oh yeah, I'm fine," she answered as she lay back against the ground, "For being one of Hannibal's more _original_ plans, this one seems to have gone off without a hitch so far."

"Maybe, but there's _always_ a catch," Face reminded her.

"Alright, how far are we from the pump?" Jean asked, "Because I've got to get cleaned up before I make my miraculous recovery from my death."

Murdock turned and said, "Looks like a couple hundred more feet."

"Fine," Jean got to her feet and started to stand up, "You lead the way, then you better get back incase Hannibal needs your help, though after _that_ little display I doubt anybody's going to want to try their luck with him, because _everybody_ knows if Hannibal Smith was going to be inclined to kill _anybody_, it'd be some crook long before it'd ever be a woman."

"That's just because they don't know _you_, Jean," Face replied.

Jean scowled at him jokingly and asked as she followed after him, "You ever get your butt kicked by a dead woman?"

"Ah, not as I can recall," Face remarked as he started running before she could catch up with him.

"Well the first part of Hannibal's plan worked," Jean told Murdock, "Now let's just hope the rest of it goes as well."


	22. Chapter 22

Jean grumbled to herself as she splashed some cold water on her face, "Horse trough, row boat…" and considered how the 3 Stooges hadn't been very off with that comparison of a bathtub.

Hannibal had apparently planned this out _very_ well, Jean arrived at the pump to find that right beside it was a large old wooden horse trough that looked like it hadn't been used by any horses since the days of the Wild West. It was fairly well cleaned out and had already been filled partially with water; which was just as well where she was concerned because it was going to take some doing to get all the fake blood off of her, a lot of it had already been pasted dry to her skin from the heat and the sun.

So far so good, everybody back at the house thought that Hannibal had finally snapped and lost his damn mind and was now a trigger happy psycho who could go off at any moment, that was just fine, that was _right_ where he wanted them to be. He'd told Jean once she got cleaned up and got into a change of clothes, which she'd found in a bag left by the pump, to take her time coming back. She didn't know exactly _what_ he was going to do in the meantime, but he'd made it clear that her presence wouldn't be required for probably half an hour or more. Also in the bag she'd found a new bar of soap still in its wrapping and a bath brush that just about scrubbed her skin raw when she used it, but it got the blood off, that was what mattered right now. Ooh, she thought with a smirk on her face, if only Decker were here now, she could just imagine the look on his face walking into _this_ predicament. Of course she was aware that _anybody_ could stumble upon her before she got dressed, which was why she kept her gun handy right by the pump, perfectly within her reach from where she sat in the makeshift tub.

Thinking about it, she could definitely understand why Murdock had been so dead set against this part of the plan; even faked, having somebody shoot her in the chest (again) was not _her_ idea of a good time, but she understood why it had to be done and she had been alright with it. After all she knew Hannibal would never _really_ try to kill her, certainly not by blowing a new hole in her chest, he knew the movie industry and all its tricks like the back of his hand, he knew how to make everything look completely realistic, all the while she was as safe as a kitten with its neck in its mother's mouth.

As she soaked in the cold water momentarily, Jean looked around. What a place, nothing as far as the eye could see but dirt and blue sky and a few trees that looked about dead. How fitting, she thought. She tried to figure out if there was any possible place that scum sucking general Stockwell could possibly be hiding out here that the A-Team didn't know about. If he did, she realized, it would have to be a damn good trick because she couldn't even spot any large rocks to hide behind.

Hmmmm, the more Jean thought about it, she realized she forgot to ask Hannibal if he had any idea what this Stockwell looked like. She wondered…he couldn't possibly look like the guy she'd killed in that dream back in Vietnam…or could he? Hmm, she thought as she leaned her aching back against the boards in the trough, she glanced down at herself and had to laugh, right now a loin cloth and a can of black shoe polish would've probably been very appropriate. That would definitely be _one_ sneak attack that _nobody_ would see coming. That gave her a second idea, her kingdom for a jar of petroleum jelly, she sank in the trough laughing to herself before pulling herself up and out to air dry briefly.

* * *

"Alright," Hannibal told Ging, "Now that we've established what you want with _these_ knuckleheads _and_ that piece of land, now you can answer the $10,000 question, _how_ do you know Hunt Stockwell?"

Ging knew to choose his words carefully because he had the warm muzzle of Hannibal's gun pressing against the underside of his chin. By now the rest of his men had been appropriately dealt with, beat up, knocked out, thrown down and tied up, only he remained to talk.

"I knew him from the military," Ging answered.

"You served in the Army?" Hannibal asked.

"Ah no," Ging felt the gun moving against him and he quickened his answer and raised his arms in a gesture of surrender, "I was in Nicaragua when he was stationed there a couple years ago, I was his go-to man, he wanted something, he needed something, I got it for him, that's how I came to be owed this favor by him now."

"And what exactly did you get him?" Hannibal asked.

"Anything he asked for; weapons, passes, more men…women…big guy, I think he's CIA, but he don't seem to keep a lot of connections when he travels, thinks he's all the authority he needs," Ging told him.

Murdock dragged his fingers down one side of his face, slowly pulling down his bottom eyelid before letting go of the skin and letting it snap back into place. "This has all the makings of a bad rerun of 'Miami Vice'."

"And this guy Stockwell is Maynard, Crockett's 'Mr. Real Estate'," Jean said as she walked up towards the house dressed in a change of clothes that almost matched Murdock's identically, "And I suppose that makes me Ira Stone, but I'll be damned if I'm gonna go out like him."

Ging's eyes grew to twice their size and about popped out of his head as he saw her. "You're dead!"

"Yeah yeah," she replied unenthusiastically, "I'm dead, you're dead, he's dead, we're all dead, and this is just the beginning of hell." She got in his face and added, "And it can get a _lot_ worse _real_ quick if you try pressing your luck. Now you better answer all the questions, including this one I got, does this guy Stockwell have access to a plane? A big jet that he can get out of the country with?"

"He's got access to everything," Ging replied, "He's got people working for him everywhere, anything he needs, he can get it, no questions asked."

"Sounds like a guy that knows too much," Jean observed.

"And he also knows about _us_," Face told her.

Jean looked at him in mild surprise, then to Hannibal and commented, "Well that sucks…definitely puts a kink in things, doesn't it?"

"Where is he now?" Hannibal asked.

"Probably boarding that jet," Jean said.

Face turned to her and dryly asked, "Will-you-be-quiet?"

"Why should I?" she replied, "This is one time Hannibal's not going to be 2 steps ahead of the other guy, and we all know it."

"Will you shut up!?" Face said.

"Oh why don't you make me?" she asked.

Acting without thinking or even realizing, Face reached out and smacked her across the face, and when it dawned on him what he'd done, he drew back and cringed in anticipation of the retaliation. With hardly a beat missed, Jean reached out similarly and smacked him across his face, truth be told, probably a little harder than he did her. They stood looking at each other for a minute, each looking like they were determined to do worse this time, when Jean offered her hand and said, "Fair?"

Face took her hand in his and agreed, "Fair."

"Now that we got that out of the way," Hannibal spoke up, "Maybe we can get back to the matter at hand."

"Yeah," Jean took her gun out, cocked it and aimed it at Ging and told him, "I already died once today so my patience is already running _dangerously_ thin, so you better start talking, _where_'s the General?"

* * *

"So I don't get it, what did this guy Ging want with the property?" Jean asked during the ride out of there.

"Oh it's all rather very simple," Face told her, "First he drives everybody out, lets everything sit and rot a while, then he comes along with a promise of tearing down all these houses and buildings that it's found out are, eh…shall we say, lacking in a few vitals that would need to be approved by the architects, the health department, the electric company…claims he can build bigger and better…and within enough time, when he gets enough money lining his pockets, has some new buildings put up that he can rent out to people of his select choosing, who in time he can do as he pleases with the rent and the utilities given that it's his building and he gave them so much better than they would've had before so they should be grateful to pay more for that luxury."

"All the while they're probably built even worse than the last buildings in their places," Murdock added.

"Age old racket," Hannibal said, "For people a little more creative than just coming in and smashing up everything and demanding the tenants pay for it."

"So it's like the protection racket," Jean said.

"Not _like_ it, it _is_ it," Hannibal corrected her, "The only difference is this time the 'protection' is their own landlord."

"Boy these people need a _new_ hobby," she told him.

"So eh…" Face spoke up, "Are we actually going to go after this guy Stockwell?"

"There a reason why we _shouldn't_?" B.A. asked from the driver's seat, his borderline threatening tone clear and present.

"Ah, well…" Face said, "I was just wondering…"

"He called on a bunch of the men he personally knew were discharged due to their mental issues, gave them the suits of Green Berets and a license to bust into private residences to attack the owners and tenants and drive them out, they're lucky nobody got killed. We're not letting this go, Lieutenant," Hannibal said, "I suspect that there's far more to this General Stockwell than just this."

Murdock felt something poking him in the shoulder and he turned to see it was Jean and she leaned over and whispered to him, "Didn't you say you used to work in the CIA?"

"Yeah," he nodded, "Two missions."

"You ever hear anybody mention this guy Stockwell?" she asked him.

Murdock shook his head, "No, but if he was, if we find him…"

"Yeah?"

"Be careful, they read minds," Murdock warned her.

"Seriously?" Jean asked, loud enough to get everybody's attention.

"Something you'd like to share with us, Jean?" Hannibal asked.

She looked to him and answered, "Not particularly, Colonel. But I don't get it, why would this General agree to help this guy with something like that?"

"And _what_ could he _possibly_ have done to get that kind of a favor out of him?" Face added.

"Unfortunately we couldn't even beat _that_ answer out of him," Hannibal reminded them, "So I suppose, uh…" he turned in his seat and looked to them in the back, "As Jean said, we'll just have to go up to the old hatchet head and ask him point blank."

"Great, how?" Face asked.

"And what about all those guys we left tied up back at the house, Colonel?" Murdock asked.

"I already explained that part, Murdock," Hannibal told him, "We got them right where we need them, so we're going to find a payphone and make an anonymous call to Decker, he won't blow the ring off of the bigger picture but at least he'll know this time that he's got the _right_ men for the job."

"I can just imagine how that phone call would go over." Jean pantomimed raising a telephone receiver to her ear and said into the mouthpiece, "Hell, Beelzebub speaking."

* * *

That night, Jean had caught up with Jason Crowley and as they walked through the busy streets of the night, she gave him a simple rundown of what had been going on.

"So Hannibal thinks the next place they got to look is at this General," she said, "I get the impression he could be a _big_ war criminal or something. I'm not exactly sure _what_ he's done but I'm sure he's got more than his fair share of blood on his hands."

"So where is he?" Crowley asked.

"Seems to be hiding out somewhere for the time being," Jean said, "Nobody seems to know where he is, and given the third degree they were subjected to today, I guess they'd have to be telling the truth there."

"So how does Hannibal think they're going to find him?" Jason asked her.

"It beats me and I'm getting the impression that I'm not included on this plan," she said, "Probably just as well, if it involves leaving the country I'm immediately out because I don't have a passport."

"Do _they_?" he pointed out.

"That's different, as many aliases as Face goes through and as many disguises as Hannibal goes through, they must have a couple dozen all made up and ready to go," she said.

"Right, so they go off chasing this mystery man halfway around the world…and then what?" Crowley asked.

"Who knows?" Jean replied, "Who ever knows what Hannibal's thinking? I suspect half the time he just makes it up as he goes along."

"Well what're they planning for this guy?" Crowley asked, "If he's military…"

"Army," she corrected him.

"Yeah…you can't very well turn that over to the cops," he pointed out the obvious, "And if he's Army and all that other stuff you were saying…well, doesn't that give him some kind of immunity?"

"_Not_ from the A-Team," Jean reminded him, "He can run, he can hide, he can pay off anybody he needs to, but there's no hiding from those guys, sooner or later they're going to find him, and the next time Hannibal gets trigger happy he's going to be using real bullets."

Crowley turned so he was walking backwards as he talked to her and said, "You really think he would?"

"That's what the Army trained them for," she said, "To kill, you don't become a Green Beret by holding hands with the Cong goons, and besides…"

She stopped suddenly and Crowley saw it was because she was looking in the front window of a bar. He stopped and looked in as well, but he didn't see what she was seeing. "What is it?"

Jean was already heading towards the door, she told Crowley, "Wait for me here, don't go away, I'll be back in a minute," and headed inside.

Crowley stayed by the window and watched as she entered the smoky, oddly lit establishment and made her way over towards the bar and went over to a man sitting on one of the stools by the counter. There was no way to get a good look at the guy from where Jason stood outside trying to see through the dirty window. He was able to watch as Jean went up to the man and started talking to him, the man turned to the side and looked at her and seemed to pick up on whatever the conversation was. He wasn't sure _what_ to think when he saw the man reach his hand over and put it on Jean's stomach; thankfully the gesture was short lived and it didn't look like she was going to try to kill him. A few more minutes passed and Jean headed back for the door, Crowley stood by and waited as she came out. Dismissively, as though nothing had happened, she turned to him and said, "Come on, let's get out of here."

Jason grabbed her by the arm and pointed to the man with his back to the window, "Jean, who is that guy?"

Jean looked in as though she didn't have any idea who ho was talking about. Then, she turned to him and said just as dismissively, "Him? …That's Murdock's father."

Crowley felt his eyes double in size and he asked her in disbelief, "_What_?!"

Jean nodded towards the window and said, "That man in there at the bar…that's Max Murdock, Howling Mad's father."

"You can't even see his face!" Crowley said, "How could you…"

She shrugged, "I don't know, I just _knew_ it when I saw him…I asked him, he confirmed it…"

Crowley was left dumbstruck and speechless for a moment, "Does Murdock know…"

Jean shook her head, "No, and…his old man doesn't want him finding out any different either."

"Wha…" Jason looked back to the window, "What did you talk about?"

She continued to shake her head and said only, "Surprisingly little…" then she started walking and told Crowley, "I have to get home, I…I need to figure out what I'm doing."

* * *

_Not_ surprisingly little, surprisingly a _lot_ for the few minutes that they talked together. Murdock hadn't been asleep yet when she got home but he'd been close to it, and now he lay alongside her in the bed asleep, and she lay awake and stared up at the ceiling as she recalled the conversation she'd had with the man in the bar earlier that night.

In any other situation her mind would've been filled with the overwhelming feeling that she was wrong and to turn around and walk away; but it was as if she'd been set on autopilot, she just went right in and made her way over to the man at the bar. How could she have known it was Murdock's father just seeing him from the back? She didn't know, but as soon as she saw him face to face, she knew it was right; the man looked like an older version of Murdock, she definitely saw where his receding hairline came from, his father had him beat by about three inches there. He was notably heavier than Murdock was, just natural she supposed, between natural aging and…more than a few beers she'd guess. Despite his obvious height, accentuated by his very long legs, he had his feet up on the bottom rungs of the stool to keep them from touching the ground. He was dressed in a dark shirt and tan pants, and he wore glasses with very thin rounded frames. The man had three drinks set up and went through them one by one in between plays as he cast playing cards down on the countertop in a spread out game of solitaire.

Without any introduction whatsoever, Jean asked him point blank, "Excuse me, sir, would your name happen to be Max Murdock?"

"Last time I checked," he answered without looking up at her, "What can I do yer for?"

"You have a son, Howling Mad Murdock?" she asked.

"40 years ago in…" the man looked up and took notice of her, he recovered from his mild surprise and asked her, "And why would you be inquiring?"

Hardly missing a beat, Jean told him simply and firmly, "I'm his wife."

A couple of beats passed before the elder Murdock said, as he turned back to his cards, "I see."

"What the hell are you doing here?" Jean asked.

"I'm having a drink," he said as he picked up one of his glasses, "And I'm playing a game of cards."

"No," Jean said, "What the hell are you doing here in Los Angeles? Didn't you guys come from Texas?"

"Don't mean we have to die there," he answered as he kept his eyes on his cards, "My boy tell you anything about me?"

"He doesn't even know if you're alive," Jean said, "What could he _possibly_ tell me about you?"

"Not much I reckon," Max Murdock answered as he scratched his chin, "Boy ain't seen me since he was about 2 years old."

"You know his mother died when he was 5," Jean told him.

"I know…I can read the papers," he said.

"Well where the hell have you been all this time?" she asked.

"Wherever the wind blows me to," was his way of explaining, "Wind stopped blowing couple years ago, been in this sorry sight of a city since."

Jean pressed a forearm against the countertop for balance and she asked him point blank, "Why did you leave?"

He stopped playing cards long enough to tell her, "I was never er…what'd you call overly ambitious, I just felt that there was something better waiting for me somewhere else."

"So you took the coward's way out and abandoned your wife and kid," Jean sneered.

"I deny nothing, I was a rotten father and a miserable husband, you may quote me on that," he told her, "I make no excuses for anything I' done. But don't think you can make me feel anymore guilty about it than I've already made myself the last 30 years."

"Why didn't you go back for Howling Mad when you knew his mother died?" she asked.

He wouldn't answer her, just flipped another card off the top of his deck.

Jean glared at him and said very calmly, "It probably won't break your heart any to know he replaced you."

"With what?" was all he asked.

"He was in the Air Force, a Thunderbird, he was a pilot in Vietnam, he was a member of one of the Green Berets' A-Teams, met a damn good Colonel, _he's_ been Murdock's father for the last 15 years, 10 of which your son spent in a mental hospital when he came back from the war," Jean told him.

There was a short pause before Max nonchalantly responded, "Obviously he got released," he glanced at her and said, "Last I checked they don't let crazy people marry behind those padded walls."

"I married him to _get_ him _out_," she answered, "He learned a lot in that place, learned a lot about sociopaths, people who feel nothing, sympathize with nobody…you'd have to be one to not even care your own boy was left to rot in a nut ward by his own country."

"If he was locked up there, how did he meet you?" Max asked her, "He got out, didn't he? _Before_ his release, obviously. He gets out, and if this colonel is as good as you want to make him out to be, he'd know where my boy was, might even be _with_ him during those times he spends _out_ of the hospital."

"You bastard," Jean said, "You knew…you've been watching him all this time?"

Max casually looked to the other side before turning back towards her and explained, "Marriage licenses are a matter of public record, given enough time, they make their way into the daily newspapers, if you got a brain big enough, you can start to put 2 and 4 together."

Jean didn't even know where this was supposed to be going but she felt like she was losing the fight.

"Why don't you see him now?" she asked.

"What for?" the man replied, "Crazy or not he's gonna know that I wasn't there for about the first 40 years of his life…why would I go to see him now? What could he possibly get from seeing me now?"

"Closure maybe?" she asked.

He shook his head, "You said it yourself, he got a new father, one that was there for him when it counted…no good is gonna come out of us meeting up now…" He looked to her and said, "Sometimes it's worse having an old man who stays than one who leaves…kids don't always understand that but they do when they get older, I'm sure he's realized that himself over the years."

Jean didn't even know how to answer. She just stood there, not moving a muscle, her face an emotionless stoneface mask.

"You married to my boy," he glanced back at one card before looking to her, "Any young'ins on the way by chance?"

"No," she said firmly, "Not for quite some time."

Max chuckled under his breath and said, "You'll get there, it is inevitable," and without warning he reached over and put his hand on her stomach, "Somewhere down the line somebody gonna unleash a whole army of little Murdocks onto the world, may yet just be you two."

"You obviously taught him well," Jean said borderline bitterly, "He couldn't walk out on me even if he wanted to, he made sure that he's not like you."

Jean placed both her hands on the countertop and stood on her toes as she addressed him and said firmly, "Do me a favor, old man."

"What's that?" he asked.

Jean glared at him as she answered, "Don't _ever_ let me find you again…because if I do and I have to explain to Murdock that you've been here all this time and never looked him up, I'm going to kill you."

He snorted and said in response, "Already speaking like a true Murdock woman." Then he cocked his head to the side and added, "I think I hear the wind picking up again."

"It better blow you clear on out of here," Jean said as she turned to head for the door.

And now here she was laying awake at 1 o' clock in the morning staring up at a blank ceiling, thinking about all of this.

She turned her head and looked over at Murdock who was dead to the world and had a small smile on his face. _Only_ guy Jean ever knew who could look happy when he was sleeping. She reached over and placed her hand on him, no response, she turned onto her stomach so she could reach over and drape her arm over his stomach.

Murdock moaned softly as he moved in his sleep, and when he felt something pressing against him, he opened his eyes and looked over at Jean and smiled tiredly, "Hey darling, watcha doing up?"

"Just thinking," she answered.

"Hmm, what about?" Murdock asked as he repositioned himself and her hold on him, taking her hand and placing it over his chest so she could feel his steady heartbeat.

She shook her head and said, "Nothing."

"Then why don't you go to sleep?" he asked her.

"_Can't_ sleep," she answered.

"Mmm," he replied, "_That's_ a problem." He placed his hand on the back of her head and pulled her towards him and kissed her. "Why _can't_ you sleep?"

She didn't answer him.

"What's the matter, darling?" Murdock asked as he ran his hand up through her hair, "You worried about having another nightmare?"

Why not? If it'd satisfy him. "Yeah."

He pulled her over towards him and put his arm around her. "It's alright, I'll be here," he told her.

Jean held onto him and fought back the urge to tell him, 'That's not what worries me.'

"Now come on darling, you gotta get some rest," Murdock told her, "Tomorrow's your next flying lesson."

"_That's_ what worries me," she said.

* * *

"Jean, that was fan_tast_ic!" Murdock said as he followed her down the stairs leading off of the plane, "You keep this up and soon I'll have you flying a DC-9, you…" he saw Jean sitting on the bottom of the steps with her knees against her chest and her head down as she seemed to be trying to curl herself into an upright ball, "What's the matter?"

Jean was shaking her head and told him, "I don't want to…I don't think I'm ever going to get the hang of flying these jets."

"Oh of _course_ you will," Murdock replied dismissively, "It's just going to take a little getting used to."

"Murdock!" Jean stood up and looked at him, "That's a 17,000 pound jet that holds 20 people, I'm doing well to man a 5,000 pound chopper that'll seat 4." Murdock noticed that her whole body was shaking violently and she was about to double over.

"What's the matter?" he asked her as he put his hands on her to steady her.

"I think I'm going to be sick," she said.

She managed to take a couple of wobbly steps before her knees gave out and she fell on them, she went through a short choking coughing fit but nothing came up. Murdock patted her back until the fit passed and then helped her up, "You alright, hon?"

Jean managed a quick nod and an affirmative grunt but it was obvious something was wrong.

"I can't do it," she said, then she looked to Murdock and repeated as she shook her head, "I can't do this, Murdock, I'm never going to be able to get the hang of flying something _this_ big."

Murdock rubbed her back comfortingly and told her, "It's alright, Jean, you're not gonna have to fly one of these babies by yourself, this is just so we'll have somebody better qualified than Hannibal on hand incase I ever get flash blinded again."

Jean sat on the ground and continued to huff and puff a while as she shook her head and insisted, "I don't think I can do it."

Murdock clapped his hand on her shoulder a couple times and told her, "Saint, you're doing _fine_, especially given we more or less skipped the middleman option completely of starting in a smaller plane."

Jean let out a simultaneously dry and hysterical laugh at that comment.

"Not bad, kid," they heard Hannibal's voice from somewhere. They looked up and saw him approaching the runway. "I'd give the final approach a 7 but the landing a 5."

"Hannibal, _I_ was the one who landed us," Murdock pointed out.

"Oh," Hannibal said in a tone that suggested he already knew that. He tilted his head down to see Jean who seemed to be trying to turn into a ball again and inquired, "How're you doing, kid?"

"I don't think I can stand up," she said with a huff.

"Hang on, we'll give you a hand," Hannibal told her.

They got on either side of her and helped her to her feet.

"You feeling alright, kid?" Hannibal asked as he smoothed her hair back.

"I think the high altitude just turned her stomach a little, Hannibal," Murdock explained.

"Ah," Hannibal said in a patronizing 'poor baby' tone, "Well I'm sure she'll perk up once we get some lunch."

Jean groaned at the thought, "Hannibal, don't mention food."

Hannibal chuckled at her expense, then he said, "Alright kid, maybe some ginger ale will help settle you."

"I _hate_ ginger ale," she said.

"Alright, we'll get you something else, you like cherry cola, right?"

Jean swallowed heavily a couple of times but managed to nod and get out a small, "Yes."

"Alright then, let's go, they're going to be waiting for us at the restaurant," Hannibal said as they started to walk off.

And right into a new mess.

"The only place you're going is prison, Smith," Decker said as he drew a large gun on the three of them.

"Oh not this again," Murdock groaned.

"Really, Decker, you're starting to disappoint me," Hannibal said as they all reached for the sky, "Always has to be _so_ routine with you, doesn't it?"

This time Decker hadn't come with a convoy of MPs to back him up, this time it was just he and Crane, and nobody else around as far as the eye could see, which worked both ways, nobody to interrupt Decker's plan or to help Hannibal, but also nobody to stop their getaway.

"Nice you could make it, Roddy," Jean said, "I thought you'd be held up what with that bag of kittens that needed drowning and all."

"_You_ shut up," Decker told her.

Jean shrugged but kept her arms over her head.

"So what's it going to be this time, Decker?" Hannibal asked, and nodded towards the MP car, "Do you intend to squeeze all of us into the backseat of that thing? Be awful crowded, won't it?"

"That's going to be the least of your worries, Smith," Decker told him.

"Always so _formal_ with the colonel," Jean said sarcastically, "Incidentally, Decker, why is it you have such a _hot_ spot for Hannibal…what happened, did he leave you with a rash to remember him by or something?"

Decker moved to smack her, but Murdock grabbed his arm and flipped him unexpectedly; in the same instant, Hannibal grabbed Crane and threw him up against the car and punched his lights out. He dug the keys out of Crane's pocket and tossed them to Murdock and told him to get the trunk open; while Murdock did that, Hannibal grabbed Decker, lifted him up, and as soon as the trunk was open, tossed him in and closed it on him.

"Look on the bright side, Decker," Hannibal told him as he patted the trunk lid, "You're a lot lighter to do this with than Lynch ever was."

They could hear Decker banging on the trunk and muffled threats as well, Jean threw herself up on the trunk and pressed her weight against the lid and told him, "Ahh, shut up in there or we'll stick your servant boy in with you. 'Yes Colonel, no Colonel, yes Colonel, right away Colonel', you people make me sick."

"Come on," Hannibal told them, "Let's get out of here."

Jean hopped off the trunk but before she ran off with them she hollered through the keyhole, "Hey Decker, does the name Stockwell mean anything to you?"

"Come on," Hannibal said as he jerked her along with them.

"I guess there goes lunch," Murdock commented.

"Just as well, I wasn't hungry anyway," Jean told him.

* * *

"Apparently Decker found out about the wanted posters," Hannibal explained to the others later that afternoon, "Somebody called in a sighting of us, and he's been chasing his own tail all morning."

"Huh, no wonder he's ticked off," Face said, "Uh, more than usual anyway."

"And he's not going to see any reason to believe that we didn't have them made at his expense," Hannibal added, "Though I wish we _could_ take credit for them, whoever had them printed really hit on a good idea there."

"So now what do we do, Hannibal?" B.A. asked.

"Yeah, are we gonna have to go into hiding again?" Face asked.

Hannibal looked around at his men and asked them, "Whatever for? Decker hasn't found our place yet, what reason would we have to believe he'd be able to find it now?"

"You came _from_ the airport, Hannibal," B.A. pointed out, "He gonna know we' in the area."

Hannibal shrugged and responded, "Big area."

Face looked at him with an expression of shock and disbelief, "You're just enjoying this, aren't you?"

Hannibal shrugged again, this time looking like a naughty little boy and said, "My mother always said I never could learn…just _had_ to keep burning my fingers on the stove, took a few times before I learned to stop touching it when it was on…then I just had to see how close I could get that I could feel the heat without getting my whole hand blistered."

"I give up," Face groaned.

"Me too," Murdock added.

"You know _one_ of these days, Hannibal," Face said, "Decker's going to figure these tricks of yours out."

"I wish he would," Hannibal replied, "Then we can move onto something new for a change. I'm getting tired of having to repeat the same things over and over just so he can catch up with us."

"So we just wait here and see if he can find us?" Face asked, exasperated.

"Well, in a word…yes," Hannibal grinned at him.

Face let out a muffled scream and gripped a couple handfuls of his own hair. Hannibal just laughed at his agitation.


	23. Chapter 23

Jean groaned as she tried to focus her eyes on the ceiling above her. She felt like she had a hangover, except she didn't remember drinking anything. There was a knock at the door and she looked through the corner of her eye and saw Hannibal standing in the doorway.

"When do you think I'll be able to go back to my own place?" she asked.

"I think it'd be a good idea if you stayed with us for a couple days," Hannibal told her, "No doubt Decker's got your place staked out because that's the only place he _knows_ to look for us."

Jean squeezed her eyes shut and responded, "If I don't go home, he's going to start looking, he _might_ find us here."

"He _might_ also learn to tell the difference between his head and a hole in the ground, but I doubt it," Hannibal said.

"Hannibal," Jean groaned as she sat up, "Why is Decker so hellbent on catching you? What did you do to him back in Vietnam to make him this persistent?"

He smiled at her and said, "Long story, kid."

"We're going somewhere?" she asked. She started to lie back down and closed her eyes, then she suddenly shot back up and said, "Hey wait a minute! I think I got it!"

"Oh really?" Hannibal asked.

"Decker's always said how he got the hat knocked off his military career because of the politics involved…because he was ruthless and brutal against the Cong soldiers, right? And B.A. said that you and him got into it in the Doom Club, right?"

Hannibal said nothing to confirm or deny, just raised an eye brow and watched her with amusement as she put the pieces together.

"You didn't like his tactics…his superiors found out and _that's_ why his rank was never furthered…_you_ blew the whistle on him and _that's_ why he's so hellbent on catching you and sending you to prison, getting revenge 10 years later," Jean said.

He flashed his teeth and replied, "Good guess…Decker always had a problem letting go of a grudge."

Jean managed a weak smile of her own and said jokingly, "So it's not just because you dumped him, right?"

Hannibal laughed, then somberly he asked her, "So what's the matter with you?"

She shook her head, "Murdock's been trying to teach me how to fly some of those big jets…it scared the hell out of me when he first started teaching me how to fly Huey choppers, these things are three times that size, a whole different set of controls, instruments, I don't think I'm going to get it."

"How long has he been teaching you?" Hannibal asked.

"A couple weeks…every time's a little longer…today I flew solo for 20 minutes, whole time I was just sure we were going to die," Jean said, "He keeps saying that it's only a precaution, that I'm never going to have to do this on my own…but he can't guarantee that, can he? Anything could happen, and then what?"

Hannibal shrugged and said, "At least you'll have a better idea what to do than the rest of us would."

"Why didn't _you_ agree to learn?" Jean asked him, "My nerves can_not_ stand keeping an eight-ton jet in the air, first time I'm on my own I'll panic, do the wrong thing and we'll fly into a mountain and crash."

Hannibal reached over and put his hand on hers to get her attention and he told her, "Just keep at it, it'll get easier."

Jean shook her head, "Remember a while back I told you I was having nightmares about Murdock crashing? What did I say? A Boeing plane, a _jet_, the whole thing just breaks apart, _what's_ going to stop that from happening the next time we go up?"

"Oh come on, Jean, Face and Murdock may get some planes off the repair line but they never come _that_ bad."

"You don't know that, does anybody even know _what_ causes them to do that?" she asked, "Does anybody know what could cause a jet plane to break into two pieces and fall out of the sky?"

"Jean," Hannibal calmly said, "Murdock's been our pilot for 15 years, he has flown us _and_ himself in some downright _unbelievable_ aircrafts that should never leave the runway, some with holes shot in them, some with faulty fuel gauges, we've crashed a few times but we have _never_ been in _anything_ that just broke apart, and I don't see it happening anytime soon either."

"That's the point," she replied, "They never do."

Hannibal wasn't convinced that that was what worried her though. "You're just worried that if you get left to your own devices that you'll crash."

"Like I said," Jean said, "_You_ should've been the one who volunteered for this, then you'd get it."

Hannibal just smiled at her and responded, "I know Murdock well enough to know he wouldn't have spent all this time teaching you if he didn't think you could do it."

Jean started chewing her nails but started right up by the cuticles so she bit her fingers as well and didn't seem to notice, "That makes one of us."

Hannibal could appreciate how nerve wracking this matter at hand was for Jean, he knew _he_ certainly didn't want to be the one getting flying lessons from their pilot, _none_ of them did, which was why he'd been amazed she'd learned how to fly choppers in the first place. He patted Jean's thigh and told her, "You'll do fine."

"I hope so," she replied.

A minute later they heard Murdock as he came to the doorway, he stopped before heading in and asked, "Am I interrupting something, Colonel?"

"Not at all, Captain," Hannibal answered as he got up, "I was just leaving."

* * *

Jean pushed the low hanging vines and branches out of her way as she made her way through in the darkness. She didn't know where she was or how she'd gotten there, but it looked like a jungle of some sort. Maybe she'd been shanghaied to Vietnam…on second thought, Decker wasn't that creative. No, he wasn't, but maybe Stockwell was, who knew? The night was warm and muggy, Jean closed her eyes against the sweat running down them, and reached out to smack a mosquito trying to bite her. The ground beneath her was jagged and bumpy and hard on her feet, how far was she even from the nearest paved road? She didn't know.

She had never been here before, and didn't have any idea where she was going, but it was like somehow she already _knew_ where she was going, what her final destination was, and _how_ she was going to get there. If her feet could do the thinking for her, that would be some improvement anyway.

Up in the night sky she thought she could hear a plane's engine and propeller, she tried to think of what kind it might be based on the ones she had flown in with Murdock. No answer came, but suddenly she felt like she was back in the cockpit, his hands over hers instructing her what to do, his voice commanding her through all the movements that needed to be made to land safely. She felt dizzy and dropped down, just missing falling on her knees. In her head she could hear Murdock's voice from after they'd landed during the last flight.

"_You keep this up and soon I'll have you flying a DC-9…"_

Jean pushed up on her hands and got back to her feet. Murdock had never gotten around to explaining to her _what_ a DC-9 was, she knew it was a jet, one bigger than what she'd already flown that day, but that was it. As she stood up and turned, she was able to see a small clearing among a bunch of trees, and she saw something…

Creeping along in the darkness, Jean pushed past the low branches and stood in awe at the large jet that was concealed out in the middle of the jungle. As she neared it and saw it in better detail, she could almost hear Murdock's voice, as if he was standing right beside her, going around the jet and admiring the fine piece of work it was.

"_A DC-9-30, holds 115 passengers, 2 pilots, 120 feet in length, wings are 93 feet long, 27 ½ feet tall, on its own it weighs 57,000 pounds, holds 3,600 gallons of fuel...last ones were discontinued in 1982…"_

Jean looked at the mammoth jet as if she was expecting it to give her an answer to a question she didn't even ask…and finally, the answer _did_ come to her.

* * *

Murdock woke up and turned to his side and saw that the reason _he'd_ been woken up was because Jean was flopping around on her side of the bed like a barracuda out of the water. He reached over and gripped her shoulder and shook it to wake her up, after a few seconds it worked.

"Hey hon, what's the matter?" he asked as she became still and only moved to rub her eyes, "Have another nightmare?"

"…Yeah," she tiredly groaned, "Sorry, Murdock, I didn't mean to get you up."

He reached over and lightly patted the top of her head, "You think you'll be able to go back to sleep?"

She shook her head, "Don't want to go back to sleep."

Murdock made a small sound of enthusiasm and moved over to her side of the bed, Jean pushed him away with her foot and as a result knocked him off of the bed as she told him, "Don't want to do that either."

Murdock twitched his nose painfully from one side to the other as he felt it to see if it was broken. "Boy when you say no, you _mean_ it, don't you?"

Jean had moved over to his side of the bed and was occupying it now instead. Her feet were crossed over each other, as were her arms against her chest, she looked up at the ceiling and said weakly, "Sorry."

Murdock bounced onto her side of the bed and inched over closer towards her.

"How's Hannibal going to find Stockwell?" she asked, "He doesn't even know where to look."

"Well…" Murdock told her, "_Not_ exactly."

She looked at him and asked, "What do you mean?"

"The other night when you were out with Jason," Murdock explained, "We paid Ging a visit and tapped his phones…Hannibal figures he's got enough contact with Stockwell that he'll get in touch with him soon, and when he does _then_ we'll be able to figure out where he is or where he's going, then we'll be able to catch him."

"Have they found anything yet?" she asked.

"Not yet," Murdock confessed, "Which I admit sounds suspicious, but there's nothing say this guy has to act like a typical scumbag, does it?"

"I suppose not, but if he hasn't contacted Stockwell by now…" Jean said, then thought of something else, "Whatever happened to those nimrods we left with V.C. and her brothers?"

"Oh they finally untied everybody from the ceiling and rounded them up for Decker to collect," Murdock told her.

"At least _somebody_ had some fun the last couple days," she replied, "Murdock…do you _really_ think you'd be able to teach me to fly a DC-9?"

"Oh sure, darling, just a matter of time," Murdock assured her.

Jean nodded and looked over towards the window.

* * *

"Well our bug system finally worked," Hannibal told the others the next morning, "A few minutes ago, Robert Ging made a call to Hunt Stockwell and told him that we'd been by to pay him a visit."

"Oh yeah?" Face asked, "How did that go over?"

"Stockwell didn't sound all that surprised," Hannibal explained, "_Or_ concerned, he's clearly got bigger fish to fry."

"Meaning us," B.A. said.

"Could be," Hannibal nodded, "I don't know whether that would be a good thing or not."

"Why not?" Murdock asked.

"I managed to pick up the location he's heading to today," Hannibal explained, "It's a little too close to Bad Rock for my liking…Stockwell knows about _us_…"

"Which means he might know about Maggie too," B.A. realized.

"That's right," he said, "I don't know if it'd be safe to call out there to warn her so we're just going to have to go like hell."

"In other words, business as usual," Face said.

"Colonel," Murdock got up from the couch and asked, "Should I get Jean up to fill her in on this?"

"You mean she's still in bed?" Hannibal asked.

Murdock nodded.

"Is she sick?"

"No, just exhausted I think, she didn't sleep much last night," Murdock told him.

"Then she's no use to us," Hannibal replied, "She already knows she can't go back to her house because Decker might be waiting for her, so we'll just leave her here, but wake her up and fill her in on what's going on before we leave."

Murdock nodded somberly, "Yes, Colonel."

"On second thought, _I'll_ tell her," Hannibal said, "You help Face and B.A. get everything loaded into the van, get ready to blow this place."

"Yes sir," Face and Murdock mockingly saluted him as he passed by.

Hannibal headed towards Murdock's bedroom and went in, Jean lay in the bed in her clothes but was dead to the world. He went over to the bed and shook her to wake her up.

"Hu-hu—huh? What's going on?" she tiredly asked.

"Jean, I need you to listen to me very carefully," he told her, "We've got a tip on where Stockwell's going and we're heading out there now to beat him."

"Mm-hmm," Jean's head lolled to the side as she lay back down.

"I need to you stay here and keep yourself out of trouble, you got that?" he asked.

"Hmmmm," Jean weakly nodded before falling back to sleep.

"Good girl," Hannibal clapped his hand on her back before leaving the room.

Jean stayed where she was, unmoving and unresponsive, until the van could be heard leaving, then she shot up, pushed back the covers, jumped out of bed and changed her clothes, changing into an army green uniform that she'd kept on hand for unforeseen emergencies. She was in the process of getting her boots done up when she heard the front door open downstairs and heard Amy calling.

"Up here, Amy!" she called from the bedroom.

A minute later Amy entered the room and asked her, "Where is everybody?"

"They've gone," she answered, "What're _you_ doing here?"

"Hannibal called me the other day and asked me to pull any information I could get about somebody named General Hunt Stockwell…"

"And did you?" she asked.

"Not much but I came to show Hannibal what I found," Amy answered as she held up a manila folder.

Jean flipped through it and saw little more than newspaper clippings about being decorated for this serve or that honor or another. She saw a picture of the man and froze, oh no, oh yes, she recognized him, dark hair, dark glasses, heavier build, this was the man she blew away in her dream...hell of a prophecy.

"Get a handle on this guy Stockwell?" Jean asked.

"Nope, he's too slick," Amy answered.

"Huh, just like a typical lizard," she said. She gave Amy back the folder and added, "Amy, I want you to do me a favor…the guys just left to head out to Bad Rock, Hannibal seems to think that's where Stockwell's going. I want you to go after them and stay with them, don't let them send you home for anything. And if anybody asks, you tell them you haven't seen me, you couldn't find me, anything, just don't tell them that you've seen me today, I don't want them coming back here and finding I've gone."

"Well why?" Amy asked, clearly confused, "_Where_ are you going?"

Jean was heading out the door as she called back to Amy and explained, "I'm going to go see a devil about making a deal."

* * *

"You have a lot of nerve showing your face around here," Decker told Jean, "Especially after that _last_ stunt you helped Smith with."

"I didn't do anything," she said, feigning innocence, "I was an innocent bystander."

Decker managed to restrain himself as he more or less calmly asked, "Miss Rhodes, _how_ stupid do I look to you?"

"You mean now or when you got locked in the trunk of your own car?" she asked. But she quickly dropped it and took a more direct approach, "Look Decker, does this seem like our usual joke on you? Do you see me laughing? Hmm? Do I look happy to be here? You Army guys are supposed to be smart, so can't you even tell when somebody's being honest with you?"

The disgruntled Colonel had no response for that. He looked at Crane, and then back at her and asked, "What do you want?"

"Help, and believe me I'd rather gnaw my own arm off than come to you for it," she said, "But I don't have a choice."

Now she had Decker's attention, "In what?"

"For the last time, do you know a general named Hunt Stockwell?" Jean asked.

Decker stopped for a moment and wracked his brain. "Don't recall ever meeting a General by that name…what's it to you?"

"Those goons you rounded up a few days ago," Jean explained, "The ones who busted into houses posing as Green Berets, he gave their operation the green light, he knew those psychopaths, he knew they'd been discharged for being psychotics and still put them to work in home invasions…and from what we've been able to find out about this guy, it's just the tip of the iceberg. It sounds like this guy's got his fingers in everything, there's no telling how much blood is on his hands and I'm not even talking about in a war zone. Now think about it for a minute, Roddy, this guy who seems to be everywhere and nowhere all at the same time, who has killed or had killed who knows how many people…versus three guys who broke out of Fort Bragg and have been risking life and limb to help the lesser people of the world, you tell me which capture is more likely to further your rank."

Decker opened his mouth to respond to her and then stopped and asked her, "Did you say Stockwell?"

"Yeah I said Stockwell!" she snapped, "That's what I've been saying this whole time, _how_ the hell many people are there in the Army with a name like that? Does it ring a bell for you or _not_?"

Decker looked to Crane and said, addressing nobody in particular, "I seem to recall some rumors going around when we were first stationed in Vietnam…somebody alleged that Stockwell had some of the men in his own battalion killed."

"Doesn't surprise me," Jean said, "And depending on the circumstances maybe I wouldn't disagree with it, I recall Hannibal talked once about soldiers who ordered village women and children slaughtered, he interrupted those plans for one guy and…that's how I got the holes in my chest. Somehow though I doubt anybody Stockwell had wiped out was done for honorable reasons."

"And now he's here," Decker realized, "Right where we can touch him."

"Hannibal found out that he made plans to go over to Bad Rock today, so they all headed out there to stop him," Jean told him, and shook her head, "But I don't buy it. Stockwell _knows_ about the A-Team and he knows that they're onto him, and I think he was smart enough to _let_ himself be compromised in his phone call. He _knew_ they'd be listening so he sent them off on a wild goose chase, meaning _we_ have to go after _him_."

"Where is he?" Crane asked.

"Well naturally he wouldn't give _that_ away for us to hear," Jean said, "But he wants them out in the middle of nowhere, _away_ from Los Angeles…so I'm thinking he's sticking close to the city for something."

"It's a big district," Decker pointed out, "You got anything we can narrow it down with?"

"He doesn't want the A-Team to spot or catch him…so _obviously_ he's not going to be anywhere he can get lost in a crowd, so we can eliminate the populated city parts…maybe he's in an outskirt area…" she looked at him and said, "Well come on, Decker, you were in the Army, you know that hiding out in the open is a way of life, didn't you ever pick up anything from all that camouflage work?"

Decker thought about it for a minute, and an idea seemed to come to him. Against his better judgment, he nodded towards the MP car and told her, "Come on."

* * *

Maggie screamed as her front door bust open before she recognized the four men who came charging in. As soon as she caught her breath she marched over to Hannibal and started hitting him and told him, "Hannibal Smith don't you _ever_ scare me like that again!"

Hannibal put up with the abuse for a few seconds longer until Maggie stopped beating on him, and he calmly replied, "Sorry, Maggie, we thought you might be in trouble here."

"Why would you think that?" she asked uneasily.

"We got a tip that a big bad General who's got more tricks and pulls than J.R. Ewing was heading out this way," Murdock explained, "Thought he might be coming here so we rushed the trip out."

Maggie looked at them all and saw they all looked about as confused as she was. "Well nobody's been here," she said.

"So either we got here in time," Face said.

"Or Stockwell sent us here on purpose, _knowing_ we'd have Ging's phone line tapped," Hannibal added.

"He's smarter than we thought," Murdock commented.

"So he's somewhere else," Face said.

"Yes, but I don't think he mentioned this place by any happy chance of luck," Hannibal replied, "I think it was as much a message for Ging as it was for us, there's something or somebody close by here that needs to be relocated to wherever he is."

"And how are we going to find that out?" B.A. asked.

Hannibal motioned for them to be quiet, then in a lower voice he said, "First B.A., you sweep this place for bugs, then we'll get around to the next order of business."

"Hannibal," Maggie grabbed him by the arm and demanded to know, "_What_ is going on?"

"Darling, I wish I could tell you," Hannibal replied.

"But then you'd have to shoot me, right?" she cynically asked.

"No, I'd tell you but I don't know what's going on myself," he explained, "All I know is that somebody's onto us, but whatever he's got in mind for us doesn't seem to be much of a priority at the moment, and I don't understand why."

* * *

"I don't care if you _didn't_ serve in the Army," Decker threatened Jean as the three of them made their way through a heavily wooded area, "If I find out this is another one of your jokes I'm going have _you_ thrown in the brig."

"Oh quit your whining, Roddy," Jean remarked, "Nice way to talk to somebody who saved your life…incidentally _how_ is it you plan to catch 4 members of the Special Forces when you can't even hold your own against a drunken bum with a broken bottle?"

"We have been going in circles all morning checking every out-of-the-way place off from city limits," he reminded her, "And no sign of anything or anybody yet."

"Naturally not, this is a smart guy we're dealing with," Jean said, "Good thing you weren't left alone to your own devices trying to find him, you'd be looking until the turn of the century."

"Rhodes, I'm warning you, my patience is _dangerously_ thin already…"

"Yeah yeah, so what else is new?" Jean asked as she wandered away from him and went down the slight hill that the dirt road they were currently traveling down was on.

She had trouble maintaining her footing the first couple of steps down, and then when she was able to firmly plant her feet into the ground, she stopped and looked on in awe.

"Decker," she called to the men still on the road.

Decker was not picking up on the urgency in Jean's tone and asked in an annoyed response, "What is it now, Rhodes?"

Jean kept her eyes on the sight ahead of her and called back to Decker, "How many people can fit on a DC-9 jet?"

"I don't know, about a hundred and…" Decker turned to her, "Now why would you be asking about that? They quit making those years ago."

By now, he and Crane picked up on the realization that _something_ had been found; they went over to join her and there they were able to see the hill led down to an old deserted runway in a clearing. And _on_ the runway they saw…

"A DC-9-30," Jean said, unsure how she already knew that, and the three of them took off down the hill to get a better look at it.

As Decker said, these jets hadn't been made in a few years, and it was obvious this jet was _not_ showroom new, but it was still in far better condition than a lot of the ones Face and Murdock scammed all the time. To date it was one of the _biggest_ pieces of aircraft Jean had ever seen up close and personal. As she walked around it she recited the information she didn't know how she came to hear, "93 foot wingspan, 27 feet high, 120 feet long, holds 115 passengers, 3,600 gallons of fuel…" she looked to Decker and said, "Did you hear that, Roddy? 115 passengers, and this plane has not been abandoned here, it has been _brought_ here very recently, somebody's going to be using it _very_ soon, that much is obvious…the only question is by who and for what? But we can take very good guesses on both those questions, can't we?"

"You don't know that Stockwell's behind this," Decker said.

"Somebody is, look," Jean pointed to the ground beneath them and they were able to see that while not much traffic had been out here recently, there _was_ a set of tire tracks leading out of there.

"Look suspiciously like military jeep tires, don't they?" Jean asked coyly, "Would you like to offer a different candidate who could be behind all this?"

Decker looked back to the road where the tire tracks seemed to disappear after a while, then he turned and looked back to Jean, who only nodded to the plane and asked, "Shall we open it up and take a look?"

* * *

"Okay, nobody's been out to Maggie's, there aren't any bugs, her phone hasn't been tapped, so she's okay," Face told Hannibal, "But there's still a matter of if somebody's lurking around, just _where_ they would be and _how_ we're going to find them."

"We're just going to have to check around every place somebody could be hiding," Hannibal answered.

"That leaves us with a lot of ground to cover," Murdock said, "Though not much else…about all there is around here are houses and trees and aside from that, it's just dirt and grass."

"I know, but I don't want to take any chances," Hannibal told them, "Now B.A., you stay here with Maggie just incase somebody _would_ come while we're gone."

"Right," B.A. nodded.

"Face, you and Murdock come with me," Hannibal said, "We're going to comb through this whole area, if there's so much as a rat here unaccounted for, we're going to find it."

"Oh joy," Face dryly remarked.

Hannibal headed over to the front door with his gun already drawn, and upon opening the screen door, just about collided with Amy, who had just gotten up to the porch.

"Oh!"

"Amy, what're you doing here?" he asked.

"You asked me to find out what I could about General Stockwell, remember?" she asked.

"What'd you find out?" he asked.

"Not much," Amy answered.

"Well that was certainly a long trip for nothing," Face commented.

"Is Jean with you?" Hannibal asked suspiciously.

Amy shook her head, "No, last I saw her…she was at the house asleep, she could barely tell me where you'd come."

"Well that's fine," Hannibal said, "Right now her getting into the middle of this is the last thing we need here. Though since _you're_ here, you might as well come along with us."

"How come?" Amy asked.

"Since no red blooded man can refuse help to a damsel in distress, you can be the bait to lure out the fat rat," Murdock said.

Amy glared at him and asked cynically, "What does that make me, a piece of cheese?"

Remembering a previous comment of Jean's, Murdock responded, "More like cheesecake, sweet enough to draw out everything with a taste bud."

* * *

Jean looked up at one of the engines on the jet, and she pondered for a moment. She had told Hannibal about that sadistic director she'd had the misfortune of working for a while back, on some war movie…he'd heard a lot of the gruesome details but she never told him about the worst of it. That guy was not only a sadist and a goon, he was dangerous. For some explosion scenes, he had gotten everybody involved in the picture riled up when he tried to obtain real dynamite to use. That had been the moment that everybody realized just how dangerous a film director could be. Fortunately he had been overruled on the final decision but not before he was able to actually get his hands on a few sticks of the real stuff, and knowing him it was probably still stored away in the weapon locker in prop storage where they kept all the guns used for the film.

She remembered how Murdock had used dynamite to blow up a C-5B, that being when they'd gone out to clear Decker's name when an imposter was running around making him look even worse than he already did himself; that had also been when Hannibal had saved Decker's life by supplying the blood for a transfusion after Decker had been shot. _That_ plane had been much larger than this plane, it had taken 20 sticks to blow it sky high. She knew she couldn't get her hands on that much, but she thought, if she could even get her hands on one stick of it and put it right where it'd blow one of these engines out of commission…that would have to put the whole plane out, wouldn't it? Would they really be able to press on and fly over 100 men with only _one_ functioning engine and who knew what other damage to the overall aircraft?

Jean turned her head back to see Decker and Crane and explained to them, "If the A-Team was here, they'd probably sneak Murdock on as one of the pilots, when the real one comes on board, knock him out, tie him up, stash him somewhere he wouldn't be noticed right away…and knowing them they'd probably just charge on through the entranceway since there are too many people to knock out one at a time." She shook her head and told him, "Even if we could get in contact with them, they'd never get here in time, the whole plane would be loaded up and off the runway before they got here."

"You sound very sure of yourself," Decker dryly noted.

"I am," she said, "This time Hannibal's gone up against somebody he can't outguess, he can't outmaneuver…God only knows what they found over in Bad Rock, it wouldn't surprise me if Stockwell had a trap there waiting for them."

Decker couldn't resist taking the opportunity to rub in the fact that, "You don't sound very sure of Smith's abilities."

Jean didn't seem to hear him, she was hitting herself in the side of the head and muttering over and over, "I _told_ him this was gonna happen, I _told_ him, I _told_ him, he didn't listen."

Her mind went back to a night that she should've been too drunk to remember, before Hannibal moved out of his apartment she'd shown up one night drunk as a skunk, telling Hannibal that he couldn't die, that none of them would be able to survive that. She remembered telling him very distinctly, "_Hannibal it can't be helped, one of these days something's gonna go wrong and you're not gonna come back from a mission_." She felt a rock digging into her stomach because suddenly it felt like that mission had finally come. Now she regretted not following them, but she _knew_ that Stockwell wasn't in Bad Rock waiting for them, he was somewhere else, planning something big, and this was big alright, whatever it was.

"Colonel," Crane came back down the hill and told Decker, "We got company coming, looks like a whole convoy."

"I told you," Jean told Decker.

He looked at her and responded firmly, "We'll wait and see what happens."

"I told you what's going to happen you idiot," Jean said, "If we want to keep these people from leaving the country and its jurisdiction, we're going to have to stop them either before or immediately after the takeoff."

"And _how_ would you propose doing that?" Decker asked.

Jean shook her head, "Well I can't fly that plane…" another idea came to her and a sickening smirk formed on her face as she added, "But I can sure as hell _bring it down_."


	24. Chapter 24

Decker glared at Jean and shook his head, "You _can't_ be serious."

"As serious as I was about throwing you out of that helicopter," she replied.

"If there're going to be 100 people on that plane you can't—" Decker started to say but was cut off.

"If they're working under Stockwell's orders it doesn't matter how many of them there are," Jean told him, "They don't matter and they don't count, they're expendable, it would be no _human_ loss, that's just the way it is and _you know it_. Don't start getting all high and mighty on me now about who's allowed to live and who isn't."

Decker grabbed her by the lapels of her jacket and was close to choking her, "_Not_ American soldiers."

Jean dug her nails into Decker's hands until she drew blood, and when he backed up she got in his face and replied, "It was your good old American soldiers that tried putting me in the ground for blowing the whistle on their trafficking ring, get it through your head, Decker, Americans aren't any better than anyone else in the world, especially not the soldiers, they're just as rotten as the rest of them, and believe me I ought to know."

"I don't care if they buried you alive," Decker told her, "Nothing would justify blowing up 100 men."

"Fine," Jean replied, "Then we _won't_ take the Rambo approach, better yet, we'll take the _movie_ Rambo approach, instead of just killing everybody like he did in the book, we'll just injure them."

"How?" Decker asked.

"Well, it ain't gonna be easy…" Jean admitted. "Being a pilot on one of those things is pretty final, you can't bail out like a chopper." She looked down and noticed the uniform she had on. And she looked out from where the three of them were concealed by the trees and looked at the men who had driven up in trucks and jeeps onto the runway near the plane and were starting to get out in droves; they also wore army green uniforms that were very similar to her own, or rather hers was very similar to theirs.

"If Stockwell's behind this, he's going with them," Jean said, "So we'll have to wait until he shows up."

"In the meantime," Decker told her, "We're going to radio for the MPs for backup, if we're going to take these people we're going to do it the _right_ way."

"Go ahead," Jean replied, "They won't get here in time, but go on ahead."

* * *

"I don't know, Hannibal," Face said into his walkie-talkie, "We've been through every backyard on this side of town, haven't see anything yet, how about on your side?"

"Negative," Hannibal replied, "Murdock and I have been checking every square inch on _this_ part of town, we've checked every place that anything or anyone could be hiding, come up empty as well."

Murdock had gone all out to assist in the search, he'd even brought out Billy and was running around with the invisible dog on his invisible leash and was frantically going back and forth as Billy seemed to pick up and lose a trail. Then Murdock started jerking in response to Billy pulling him and he called over to the Colonel, "Hannibal, I think Billy's got the scent!"

Hannibal turned to see what was going on and felt his eyes get big as he realized Murdock had hit on something. Off in a distance he was able to make out three figures sneaking along the land and taking refuge inside of an old barn. Hannibal pressed the button on his radio and said, "We may have found something, we're going to move in and see what we can find, stand by."

"Roger," Face responded.

On his end, Face pocketed his radio and told Amy, "We better find them before they find whatever they're looking at."

Amy nodded, "Alright."

* * *

As they made their way back the way they'd already come, Hannibal and Murdock made their way over to the barn as quietly as was possible. They could hear people inside talking but it was too muffled and too low to hear anything clearly. They inched their way along closer and came up to the large old building that looked like it hadn't been painted in 20 years or even frequented in as much time. The boards were warped from years of rain and the other elements and had gaps between them, Hannibal got up close for a peek inside. He could see three or four men in army green uniforms tossing things here and there, picking up wooden crates and throwing them around in a somewhat more organized way.

"What do you think it is, Colonel?" Murdock asked quietly.

Hannibal shook his head, "I'm not sure."

They heard a familiar sound of something hitting metal, and looked each other, then tried to get a better look through the gaps in the wood.

"That sounds like a truck bed," Murdock whispered.

Hannibal squeezed one eye shut and got his other one as close to the wood as possible. Whatever was in those crates was getting tossed into the back of an old truck that almost looked like something the military might've used 20 or 30 years ago. Murdock tapped Hannibal on the shoulder and asked so quietly he was practically mouthing the words, "What's going on?"

Hannibal just shrugged his shoulders in response.

They heard other people talking nearby and about jumped out of their skins, and were grateful that they'd chosen to eavesdrop from the side of the barn where they couldn't be seen right away. Hannibal kept his eye on what was going on inside and saw another man, he wasn't dressed in a military uniform, he was just dressed in a dark suit and dark glasses and had dark slicked back hair. Hannibal would almost swear he'd seen the man somewhere before, but if he did, the answer escaped him. They heard the new man order the others to get the truck loaded up and head on out to the air base. Hannibal and Murdock looked to each other and wordlessly considered their next step. They couldn't radio to Face or B.A. without somebody overhearing them, and they were easily outnumbered so one of them couldn't leave the other to go and call for backup. They made their way around to the back of the barn to see if they could get a better view of things. They were able to see both doors of the truck thrown open in the front and heard the last of the crates being tossed in the back.

Quietly Hannibal asked Murdock, "Do you know of any air bases that are in this area?"

Murdock shrugged but didn't have a chance to actually respond. They both heard the cock of a gun and Hannibal turned in the direction he'd heard it from but Murdock saw it first and dove in front of Hannibal, trying to push him out of the way.

"Hannibal watch out!"

BANG!

The next sound was a guttural groan that was half stuck in Murdock's throat as he hit the ground with a hole in his shoulder and his blood pouring out.

"Murdock!"

Hannibal automatically drew out his gun and let off a few rounds to scare off whoever had shot at him, and it seemed to work. Hannibal could hear the sound of running feet, and then a truck speeding out of there, but he didn't pay attention to any of that, he dropped on one knee beside his fallen pilot and examined him to determine how bad the damage was.

"Murdock are you alright?" A stupid question, but a better one to ask than 'are you still alive?', Hannibal noticed that Murdock's jacket was hanging loosely off the left side of his body, so it hadn't been hit by the bullet, only his thin T-shirt and his flesh.

Murdock groaned and said only, disappointedly, "They got away, Colonel."

"Hannibal!" Face hollered as he and Amy came running up, "What happened?"

"They shot Murdock!" Hannibal answered.

Murdock tried to insist that it wasn't that bad and he was alright, but of course nobody listened. After concluding how bad it was, Hannibal and Face carefully got him to his feet and moved him into the barn to get him out of sight incase someone was still lurking around. Face radioed to B.A. to get the van and told him where to find them, meanwhile Amy helped Hannibal get Murdock settled and look for something to bandage the wound with. Amy's whole body felt like jelly except for her legs which felt like rubber, her mind could hardly work, all she could concentrated on was the blood, all the blood. Suddenly an idea came to her and she took off her jacket and gave it to Hannibal to press against the wound with.

"As soon as B.A. gets here," Hannibal explained as he applied all the pressure he could on Murdock's shoulder, "We're going to have him run us back to Maggie's, she'll be able to remove the bullet and at the very least be able to get him fixed up part of the way before we have to move him to a hospital."

Murdock tried shaking his head, "No-no hospital, don't need a hospital…"

"Don't worry, Captain," Hannibal tried to joke to cover how petrified he felt, "I'm sure we can find one that'll allow conjugal visits with your wife."

"My…wife?" Murdock said slowly, like it was a foreign concept to him.

"Just take it easy, Murdock," Hannibal said as he used both hands to press down against the wound with, "B.A. will be here any minute and we'll get you rushed back to Maggie's, and she'll have you good as new in no time."

"Hannibal," Murdock said lowly, "Hannibal I think I hear somebody outside…I think they came back."

"Face, you take over," Hannibal told the Lieutenant, "I'll go check."

"No…" Murdock said, "Faceman go with him, if they're back, Hannibal might need your help…"

"Alright, Amy, you know what to do, right?" Hannibal asked.

Amy nodded nervously as she took his place sitting behind Murdock and pressed her jacket against the entrance wound as he leaned back against her for support.

Hannibal took a spare gun out of his back pocket and held it out for Amy to take and told her, "If you have to, you use it."

Amy nodded again and took it. Once Hannibal and Face had left the barn, Amy noticed that Murdock was sweating bullets and asked him, "How bad is it, Murdock?"

"Ahhh," Murdock let out a low groan and hiss. He tilted his head back to look at her and said, "Amy, I want you to promise me something."

With tears building in her eyes, Amy told him, "Anything you want, Murdock."

"Promise me that when this is over, you'll find Jean and tell her how much I love her…she's a nice girl, she needs to hear it…even if I'm not around to tell her."

Amy felt hot tears stinging her eyes harder now, "Murdock don't talk like that."

"Also," Murdock ignored her, "Don't let Face's teasing get to you, I know he likes you, I can tell, he just has trouble showing it with women he _really_ loves."

"Murdock," Amy's voice was broken into a series of small sobs now.

Murdock moved slowly and painfully, turning himself so he could reach up and kiss Amy on the cheek, and he told her, "Don't cry for me, Flat Face, it's better to be dead than to starve…let's raise a cheer all the same; never again, hide in a drain, ride in a train, died in the rain…give my regards to Rowf and the Tod."

"Murdock…"

He weakly squeezed her hand and said as he turned back around, "I must go now, the black rabbit has come for me, as he shall come for us all one day."

Amy felt herself losing her grip as she cried even harder now as she realized Murdock was moving and responding even less.

Outside Hannibal and Face had searched every inch of the surrounding area, ready to bury whoever they found, but coming up empty. They saw the van coming their way and B.A. had just gotten out and gotten caught up on what was going on when they heard Amy's voice call from inside the barn, loud enough for what seemed the whole world to hear, "HANNIBAL! HEL-L-L-LP! HEEEE-LLLL-LP!"

* * *

"I told you the cavalry wasn't going to get here in time," Jean told Decker as they watched the men board the plane one by one, all carrying rifles with them. In the beginning it seemed that a little time had been bought for them when the men first went around the plane and examined it before opening it up to get everybody on.

"DC-9s have been used by the military," Decker pointed out to her, "But that's _not_ one of them."

"Certainly not," Jean replied, "I imagine this guy Stockwell likes to travel in something resembling class."

They stood in the shadows of the forestry off in a distance and counted how many men got on the plane, all climbing up single file. Obviously it wasn't enough to fill the jet to maximum capacity but it was still damn plenty; Jean would hazard to guess that they were looking at at least 70 men, this still without the precious General.

Crane looked to the road and reported, "Another vehicle coming, Colonel."

"Not ours," Decker noted, "It's an old truck."

They watched as it pulled up closer to the plane than the other vehicles and watched as three men climbed out of the front and two more jumped out of the back and started unpacking the crates stacked with them. Jean took exceptional notice of the man in dark suit and glasses and nudged Decker, telling him, "_There's_ Stockwell."

"You're sure?" he questioned her.

"Positive," Jean said.

"What're they carrying onto the plane?" Crane tried to get a better look.

"I don't know but whatever it is it's nothing good," Jean said. She looked to the Colonel and told him, "Time's up, Decker, we either deal with them now or they're gone for good. Now I know that you suddenly got opposed to the idea of killing people, but that's 100 armed men and only 3 of us, if we try taking them now while they're boarding then we're dead as soon as we step out of here, so we gotta wait until they're all on the plane and can't fire at us. Either they die today or we do, that's just the way it's got to be, but either way we're not letting them just fly on out of here without a fight."

She looked at him and said, judging by the unreadable expression on his face, "You're not gonna do it! You're scared! Because you _know_ that this time is going to be different from chasing the A-Team, they go out of their way to miss what they're shooting at, but you _know_ as soon as we go in there these guys are going to shoot to kill. I thought the Army was so big on it's an honor to die for your country, but you sure don't believe in living by that when you're _in_ your own country, do you?"

Decker glared at her before finally responding, "Alright, let's go."

Jean had anticipated meeting with Stockwell today, along with possibly some other company, so she had gone to Decker prepared, she'd brought an automatic rifle and a couple extra magazines for reloading. And she'd been pleased to find that Decker and Crane believed in taking about as many chances because they'd had similar guns on hand before they headed out here. Also, from where they'd been laying in wait, they'd hit upon a little piece of good luck. They'd found that jeep that had made the tracks leading away from the runway, and whoever had left it there left it with half a tank of gas and the keys still in it. Somebody was either very trustworthy, or very dumb, or a third option was that it was left behind for somebody who never arrived, she wouldn't bother guessing.

Knowing what would have to be done if the MPs didn't arrive in time, they'd loaded the weapons into the back of the jeep until further notice; now the time had come. As Jean climbed into the back of the jeep she murmured to herself, "I'd feel a lot better about this if I was Hannibal…" she picked up one of the rifles and made sure it was loaded and added, "Or at least Sam Troy." And even further under her breath _also_ added, "Feel better if this was an M3 half-track instead of a jeep," and didn't even bother giving voice to the other part which was 'feel _much_ better if it was a mounted machine gun instead of these rifles'. Leave it to her to suddenly get a picture perfect memory about a war show she could never even stay awake long enough to see a full episode of.

She'd made a point to remind Decker that since she would be the tallest target standing in the back of the jeep, if anybody _was_ going to return fire, it would be at her, he and Crane would be low enough down that probably nobody would even aim for them, figuring that ought to make him feel better about what they were going to do. She stood up in the back and looked down ahead at the plane and told Decker, "Once the last man's up the stairs we ought to be good, not much they can do once everybody's actually on board and starting to move."

Decker looked back at her and asked, "And just _how_ did this idea come to you?"

"Experience," Jean answered, just hoping this time when the jeep went speeding down the hill that she'd be able to maintain her balance in the back.

After a few minutes all the crates had been taken up on the plane and the last man was making his way up the stairs. That was the signal; Jean crouched down and leaned forward to keep her balance until it was time to take aim, and Crane buried the accelerator to the floor of the jeep and they sped out of their hiding place and quickly approached the runway.

Jean shot up in the back and raised the rifle high so it would be sure to hit _something_ even if it wasn't her intended target and started firing at random at the large jet as they approached it at an unbelievable speed. She tried aiming for something that would _particularly_ count like one of the engines or even one of the windows, if anything was hitting she couldn't tell, all she knew was that nothing had blown up and the plane showed no signs of slowing down as it taxied out preparing for takeoff. The problem with full automatics was they always ran out too fast, Jean dropped the empty rifle and picked up the second one and resumed firing as they drew even closer to the moving jet. Jean was starting to wonder _what_ the hell they even made these jets out of when the jeep made a sharp swerve to the right and she lost her balance.

Jean could've struggled to try and stay in the vehicle, but instead she let herself get tossed out and dropped hard on the rough ground; she'd all but lost the grip of the rifle and only had it by one hand, her left hand, her right one hit the ground as hard as the rest of her had and felt like it couldn't move now. Jean realized why this had happened, she couldn't pull herself up but she could hear the screams of the engines as the jet rolled towards her, and then the noise grew higher as it started to takeoff. Ignoring the pain in her body, Jean raised her rifle and forced her right hand to work its way around the trigger and as she saw the underside of the jet come close to passing over her, she pulled the trigger and let off whatever remaining rounds she had and emptied the magazine into the bottom of the plane.

* * *

"Hold still."

Jean recognized that voice, it was Decker. She opened her eyes and saw him leaning over her, his hand high up where she couldn't quite see it. It was hot but she must've been sweating like crazy because her forehead was wet.

"One of us has a death wish, I'm sure of it," Decker told her, "And it's not me," and showed the blood on his hand.

"Wha…"

"The bullets ricocheted off the underside of the plane, you're lucky to be alive," he said.

And it seemed so was everybody on board that plane if they were able to get away.

"That remains to be seen," Jean let out a soft groan, "I still have to go back and answer to Hannibal for what I've done, I think I would've rather taken the bullet." She lifted her left hand and rubbed her eyes and told Decker, "I think I managed to hit a spot near the engine, or the tail…don't know how much good it'll do, but at least Stockwell will know to watch his back whenever he comes back to the country."

Decker just shook his head and said, "I don't believe what I just agreed to be a part of."

"Yeah well," Jean said as he pulled her to her feet and she started to dust herself off, "You get to keep your conscience cleared for another day, don't you? I on the other hand have to explain myself to the others…after the stunt I've pulled today I'm sure Murdock's going to have _me_ committed."

* * *

Murdock had been aware of voices around him earlier. He didn't know _how_ earlier but he remembered hearing Hannibal talking to him. Part of it was fuzzy but he was able to clearly recall the Colonel saying, sounding worried, "Murdock, stay with me, son, it's just a little longer…come on, don't leave us just yet." He also remembered feeling somebody's hands on his face, in fact it felt like several somebody's.

That had been a while ago though…it had been quiet since. Quiet and dark. And he didn't care…he almost felt at peace, he felt good. Murdock had enough experience at the V.A. to know that that meant somebody had slipped him some good drugs. He wanted to just lay back wherever he was and enjoy them, but after a couple minutes he tried to get up; he knew that Hannibal would be disappointed in him for not only taking the drugs but reveling in their impairing him. It had happened a few times in the beginning of his stay at the V.A. when he was medicated against his will and hadn't learned how to fake his way out of it. Hannibal didn't say anything but Murdock could tell that Hannibal disapproved of it, especially since he needed his head and system cleared to be ready to go at a moment's notice for a job that called for him to fly.

His eyes opened, and he saw Hannibal and the others standing over him. Uh-oh, something was wrong, he could tell by the looks on their faces. He tried to wrack his brain for his last memories of what had happened, hoping he could hit on something that would clue him in to what was going on. And then…he realized what it was.

"They got away…didn't they?" he managed to ask, surprised at how dry and cracked his voice sounded.

Hannibal nodded solemnly. Murdock closed his eyes and lay back against the pillow, suddenly feeling very self conscious and awkward because he knew that it was his fault that the bad guys had gotten away; and suddenly he wished everybody would stop looking at him.

A while longer passed, he didn't know how long. But he knew it had to be later because his throat wasn't dry and sore anymore…his tongue was cold…ice…they gave him ice…that's what they give you after surgery when they don't allow water. He worked his eyes open again and once again saw everybody standing over him: Hannibal, Faceman, B.A., Maggie and Amy, what were they all looking at?

Somebody was missing. Murdock didn't know why but he felt angry about something. Maybe it was the drugs, he remembered having a few reactions like that in the beginning as well…but whatever it was, he was too mad to care. He opened his eyes wide and looked up at them again, yes, somebody wasn't there.

"My wife," were the first words out of his mouth, he tried to make himself clearer, "Where is my wife?"

They all looked to each other as if deciding whether or not to tell him. He tried to sit up, only now becoming aware of the pain in his shoulder.

"Here Murdock," Face came to his aid, offering, "Let me help you up."

Murdock accepted the help but didn't really acknowledge it, he glared at Hannibal and asked him again, "I said, where is my wife?"

"Murdock, take it easy," Hannibal said, "Whatever you do, _don't_ rip your stitches out."

"I will stay calm as long as I get my answer," Murdock threatened, "_Where_ is my _wife_?"

"She's out in Maggie's waiting room," Hannibal explained, "We had to…sedate her."

"So?" Murdock asked.

"Understand, Murdock, she won't be able to talk to you," Hannibal explained, "She won't even know you're there."

"Well that's _fine_," Murdock growled in response as he staggered around all of them one by one, looking at them, "I don't want to play 20 questions with her, it's fine with me if she doesn't talk, I _like_ it when she doesn't talk, sometimes I watch her at night when she's asleep and I _know_ she won't be talking!" He just about walked into a wall and then turned around, "Somebody just point me in the right direction!"

Face came to his side and grabbed him by the arm with the uninjured shoulder and said, "Come on, Murdock, it's right this way."

Murdock agreed to let the Lieutenant help him to the door, but once there he shooed Face away before he went in. He opened the door and stepped into the waiting room and saw Jean was curled on her side asleep on the small couch out there. As he got closer to her he saw that she had his jacket in a death grip in both arms and even though she'd been put to sleep through the benefit of drugs, it hadn't been strong enough to make her forget something was wrong; her face was sopping wet and every second or third breath she took was a small sob caught in her throat. Murdock leaned over her and smoothed her hair back and talked softly to her, "Hey darling, it's me…"

Up close and personal now Murdock could see that Jean's right hand was bandaged up and she had a bloody graze on the side of her forehead that had stopped putting out blood and now was just oozing. Murdock couldn't imagine what had happened to her but still he felt a need to ask, "What'd you get yourself into, hon?"

She didn't hear him, or if she did she was too weak against the drug to wake up and see him. Murdock pried one of her hands off of his jacket and held it in his own so she could at the very least feel his presence to know he was there.

"I'm here, baby, I'm here," he told her as he ran his thumb over the back of her hand.

Jean turned her head to the side, and then to the other side, and then she slowly managed to open her eyes, and as soon as they were able to focus she opened them wider and started to sit up.

"You're alive?" she asked in shock.

He smiled at her and replied, "You think I'd let a little…" he moved his shoulder to get a feel on how big the stitch job had been, to get a feel on how big the wound had been, ".30 caliber bullet stop me that easily?"

Jean's teeth were about chattering as it wasn't just her lip that was quivering, it seemed to be her whole bottom jaw. Murdock could tell she was desperate to grab him and know that this was real but was worried of hurting him, he grabbed her hands and placed them where she could hug him without causing him much pain, and when he did Jean slowly leaned into him and started crying again. He put his arms around her and patted her back and told her, "It's alright, darling, I'm here, _I'm_ alright."

Jean pressed the side of her face against his chest and told him, "I'm sorry, Murdock, I'm so sorry."

Murdock smiled as he pulled her tighter to him, "What've you got to be sorry about, Saint?"

"They got away…" Jean breathed hard in between words, "I tried to stop them, but they got away."

"Ohhh," Murdock crooned soothingly, he was sure she was just hysterical to the point of delusions, "Don't worry about it, Jean, it's okay."

Jean didn't seem to hear him, just shook her head and continued to murmur, "Sorry, sorry, so sorry…"

From the doorway, everybody had squeezed together to lean out and take a look at what was going on. This wasn't really anything new, Jean had been like this largely before she'd even been sedated.

* * *

After the washout at the runway, Jean had gone with Decker and Crane back to where she'd found them, and where she'd left her own car, and had raced back to Maggie's to tell Hannibal the bad news as soon as possible, he had to know what was going on; while Decker decided to head back to the Federal Building and see what he could find out about Stockwell should the man reenter the country, or at least turn up in a country that had extradition treaties with them. She'd gotten back just after the van had gotten back, she prepared herself for what Hannibal was going to do with her when she told him, but then she saw them carrying Murdock out of the van and his whole shoulder and half of his shirt was bloody, and the rest of the world had fallen away.

Hannibal had let Face and B.A. get Murdock in to Maggie's office and he'd caught Jean as she came running up, and explained what had happened. When she heard his side of it, she really got hysterical and told him, or tried to anyway, about what she'd done.

"If I'd known they shot Murdock," she told him, "I would've killed them on sight."

Hannibal got Jean in the house and everybody had to sit and wait while Maggie worked on Murdock, first getting the bullet out, and then getting him stitched up, all the while making sure that no infection had had chance to set in just yet. Jean was inconsolable during the whole wait, after a while she didn't seem to even notice anyone else was there, except Hannibal about half of the time.

He listened to her hysterically berate herself repeatedly for letting Stockwell and his men get away. He grabbed her tight so she couldn't get loose and hurt herself or ignore him, and he told her, "You listen to me, Jean, I know you will anyway because it's only natural, but I don't want you beating yourself up over this, what happened isn't your fault…you're not the reason Murdock's on that operating table right now."

His words failed to have much effect on her though, it seemed. It reached a point that it was mutually decided it would be best to sedate her and let her sleep off her grief; they also figured it would be easier for Maggie to work in the next room if she didn't have to hear this coming through the walls.

And now it was Murdock in Hannibal's role as comforter, he hugged Jean tightly against him so she couldn't get away, and spoke quietly and softly to her, until finally she exhausted herself and started to calm down.

"It's okay, darling," he told her, "Everything's going to be okay…I love you."

He suddenly got the feeling that they were being watched and he turned around and saw Hannibal had entered the room. Jean felt Murdock stiffen and she pulled back from him and turned around to face the Colonel.

"They _did_ get away though, didn't they, Colonel?" Murdock asked.

Hannibal nodded somberly, "Yes, they did…it doesn't matter though."

"How can you say that?" Murdock asked.

"Because," Hannibal answered, "You're alive, you're alright, _that's_ all that matters right now."

Murdock nodded, and said uncertainly, "We'll get him next time."

Hannibal nodded, "Yes we will…he _will_ be back."

"How can you be sure?" Jean asked.

"Because he's an American, if _we_ wouldn't leave the country permanently, neither is an egotistical General who's too damn sure of himself," Hannibal explained, "He'll come back to the states someday, and when he _does_, we'll be ready for him."

* * *

Maggie deemed Murdock well enough to travel for them to take him back home that night; Amy had gone with them but didn't stay long, her clothes were covered in blood and she was in dire need of getting home to change. Hannibal thanked her for helping take care of Murdock until they were able to get him to Maggie's, and strongly suggested once she got home she check in with him so they'd know she was doing alright in the aftermath of the near tragedy. Jean also followed them to their house and when asked said that she would stay for the night, but she wouldn't stay with Murdock in his room. Instead she was told that she could bunk with B.A. for the night if she didn't mind, and she insisted that she didn't. She crammed herself as tightly in on one side of his bed as was possible and quickly fell asleep. B.A. made sure she was out like a light before he left the room and signaled for Murdock to come on in.

Jean had been worried if she slept with Murdock that she might hurt him during the night, but Murdock was more confident about his body and what it could endure, so he had worked out a plan with the big mudsucker; as soon as Jean was asleep, Murdock would come in and bunk with her for the night, and B.A. would switch and take Murdock's room, at least without the Captain in the room, B.A. figured he could survive one night in the crazy fool's bed.

Murdock quietly made his way into B.A.'s room carrying his jacket and a small bag with him, both of which he draped over a chair before making his way over to the bed. Jean was lying on her stomach and had tried curling herself up as tightly as possible to leave plenty of room in the bed for B.A. to fit into without smashing her. He lightly stroked his fingers through the hair on the back of her head and said quietly, "Hello, hon."

Jean opened one eye and looked behind her and flipped over onto her back in surprise, "Murdock! What're you doing here?"

"Oh the big guy and I had a little agreement," Murdock said as he pulled the covers out from under her and climbed in beside her.

Jean rubbed her eye and said, "You should've stayed in your own room."

Murdock just smiled at her and said, "Jean, I appreciate your concern, but I've put up with a lot of worse post-op sleeping conditions, I can survive sharing a bed with you too, especially this way, see? You're on my right side, so my left shoulder's out of the way. You know, this isn't the first time I took a bullet that was meant for Hannibal, I love him very much but I'm starting to get a little tired of this."

Despite everybody's assurances all day, Jean looked at him and said shamefully, "I really let you guys down."

"You would've if that bullet had gone a quarter inch further against your head," Murdock told her, "I know why you did what you did and I appreciate you doing what you did, and I know if it had been us there instead, we wouldn't have just stood by and let them get away either…"

"But," Jean said for him.

He looked at her and gave a little smile and replied, "I'm just too relieved you're going to be alright to be mad at you…I suppose now I know what you deal with living with me. How's your hand?"

Jean held it up and showed him the new bandage, "Maggie said nothing was broken, also said I was lucky that when I fell out of the jeep and hit the ground that I didn't break my whole damn arm."

Murdock took her hand in his and raised it up to his mouth to kiss the bandage and said, "I'm just sorry you got hurt again."

She shrugged and said, "Look who's talking…I'm getting used to it, at least I already have a little experience falling out of jeeps, guess I can be thankful to that nut director for one thing anyway. But I'll tell you one thing…"

"What's that?" Murdock asked.

"I wish they'd revive 'The Rat Patrol' as a movie…at least then I'd have something _solid_ to hold onto when firing."

Murdock laughed and tried rolling on his side but his shoulder wouldn't let him.

"Well," he said as he turned on his good side to see her better, "It's been a long day, I guess it's about time we turned in."

Jean nodded, going along with his suggestion.

He leaned over to her and asked, "How about a bedtime story first?"

"Hmm?" Jean turned to him.

Murdock nodded his head over to where he'd set his things down by the chair. Jean got up and found in the bag an old hardback book of children's magic tales, fairy tales from all around the world it looked like to her. She took the book with her and stepped back onto the bed and made herself at home beside Murdock.

"You want to read one or should I?" he asked.

Jean opened it up and said, "I'll turn the pages, you pick one to read."

"Alright," he said and watched as she flipped through the stories and stopped her at one near the middle, "Once upon a time…"

* * *

Hannibal crept down the hall and came to the door to B.A.'s room, he put his ear against it and listened, all was quiet inside. He opened the door and poked his head in and saw the lights were still on, but Jean and Murdock were asleep in the bed. Quietly, he came in and went over to the bed and got the covers straightened out over both of them. He checked Murdock's bandage and was satisfied that it would stay in place for the night; he leaned down and said into Murdock's ear though he wasn't sure if the pilot could hear him, "You saved my life today, son, I'm very proud of you, and I'll always be grateful. Thank you."

He also checked Jean's hand and her forehead and decided she'd survive as well. Trying to shoot down a DC-9 jet, well, it wasn't anything that he could honestly say had never occurred to him, it was just that they hadn't had a need to try it yet, not _exactly_ as she had anyway. He leaned over both of them and kissed them goodnight and then made himself scarce.

He crept back down the stairs and to the living room where Face and B.A. were waiting for him.

"So?" B.A. asked.

Hannibal shrugged and asked, "So what?"

Face looked like he would go through the roof, "How are they!?"

"Dead to the world," Hannibal answered, "Looks like Murdock's pills went right to work, I think they'll both sleep the whole night."

Both men let out a collective sigh of relief

"So…" Face said, "What about Stockwell?"

"He screwed up once before and we found out about him," Hannibal answered, "He'll screw up again someday and then we'll catch him."

"Then he'll screw up again and then we kill him," B.A. added.

Hannibal ignored the Sergeant's comment and told Face, "He'll come back someday but we can't wait around for it to happen, he's a big pot of water, if he's going to boil it has to be when we're not looking for it."

"I don't like it," Face said.

"Neither do I," Hannibal replied, "But nobody said we had to like it, did they?"

"Well do you think Jean was able to cause any damage to the jet?" Face asked, "You think they might've had to make an emergency landing somewhere nearby?"

"Impossible to tell, by the time Jean even returned to Maggie's they could've made a landing, got another plane and taken off again," Hannibal said, "Until we find Stockwell again, we're just going to have to bide our time with everything and everyone else we're involved with."

* * *

Two weeks had come and gone since Murdock was shot, he'd made a good recovery and though there was still the matter of Stockwell up in the air that he seemed to have disappeared into, things had gotten pretty much back to normal. He'd been staying with Jean for the last few days and everybody decided it was probably best to leave them alone for a while. Early one morning though, Hannibal tried calling the house but he got no answer, so he and Face borrowed the van and drove out to make sure that everything was alright.

They pulled up to the house and got out and started up to the house, but stopped when they realized the reason Murdock and Jean hadn't answered the phone was because they weren't in the house to hear it. Both of them had spent the night sleeping on the large lawn swing in the front yard, Murdock on the back with his arm draped over Jean who was pressed up against him, both of them covered only by a thin sheet. Hannibal and Face both struggled to keep from laughing. Even Face had to admit that they did look cute together like this.

Finally though, it was Hannibal who broke the silence by loudly announcing, "Hey you two, good morning!"

They woke up and came around and got themselves untangled from the sheet and sat up so each could get off the swing.

"Hey Colonel," Murdock said, "What's up?"

"Murdock," Hannibal said with a grin, "I need you to go with Face and get us a plane, we've got a new mission."

"Oh boy!" Murdock squealed with glee, "What is it?"

"Well we gotta head on over to South Carolina," Hannibal started to explain.

Jean murmured into Murdock's ear, "I hear Myrtle Beach is good this time of the year, ain't that the place where everybody walks around with no clothes on?" and snickered.

"Anyway," Hannibal said, "It seems that there's this little Mom and Pop restaurant that is having a problem with the local protection racket…"

"And a burning building full of kids and a sack of kittens that needs rescuing from the river, and that pretty girl tied to the railroad tracks and oh yeah," Jean said sarcastically, "Don't forget about that missing briefcase full of plutonium."

"Ha-ha," Hannibal replied.

"Well," Jean hugged Murdock, "I guess this is goodbye for now."

He kissed her on her forehead and told her, "We'll be back in a few days, if we ain't leaving the country then it won't take very long."

"You gonna be alright by yourself, Jean?" Hannibal asked.

"Oh sure," she said as she pulled back from Murdock, "I got a whole day planned…I have a new audition today, and later I have to call my mother and catch her up on what's been going on around here and…" she looked back to Murdock and added, "Break another piece of the news of our relationship to her."

"How's that coming along?" Hannibal asked.

Jean snorted and answered, "At the rate I'm going I should probably get around to telling her about our engagement by Christmas."

"What year?" Face asked.

"_That_," Jean said, "I'm not sure of."

Hannibal chuckled and went over to Jean for a quick hug goodbye, and told her, "Good luck, kid."

As they headed to the van, Jean called to Hannibal and when he turned around she asked him, "We _are_ going to catch Stockwell one of these days, aren't we?"

"You know we will, Jean," he answered, "Right now it's just like a pot boiling, have to get your concentration off of it and then it'll happen."

Jean nodded and seemed satisfied by that answer. The three men piled into the van and backed out of the driveway and took off down the road to get started on Hannibal's new plan.

"So what kind of plane will we be getting, Colonel?" Murdock asked.

"Gonna need some supplies to take with us," Hannibal said, "Better make it a big one."

"Oh boy! Faceman can we get another Gulfstream, can we? Huh? Huh? Huh? Huh?" Murdock asked.

"Tell you what, Murdock," Face told him, "What say we find out where we're going and get out there first and see what they actually have available before making any final decisions?"

"You got it, Faceguy," Murdock said as he leaned back in his seat.

Face sighed and remarked to Hannibal, "Just another typical day, eh?"

"Business as usual," Hannibal responded as he pressed hard on the accelerator and away they went.

Author's note: Once again this was going to be the final story in the series, but the story quickly got away from what I'd originally had planned so I shall soon have to pick it up again in another installment.


End file.
